The Phantom of the Opera Returns
by matchmakerqtpie
Summary: A man buys the remains of the Opera Populaire and decides to restore it. He moves his wife and daughter into the opera house, none of whom know that the place already belongs to someone else... FINISHED
1. A New Beginning

**Chapter 1**

The carriage was being pulled bumpily along over the old cobblestone street in Paris, and a young woman of eighteen looked out the window at the town she was passing through. Her emerald eyes scanned the buildings as they went by, and she carefully took it all in. As anyone her age would be when moving to a new place, she was filled with the eagerness of exploring her new surroundings. Something new always brought a strange kind of excitement, and since she rarely was able to travel this was a treat to her.

Her family was moving there from a small town on the outskirts of France. The move was her father's idea, who wanted a change of seen for his daughter and to make a business venture. This was quite a change for her, as she had grown up in the country and her only entertainment had been the many different tutors that her father had paid to come teach her. She was taught to play the piano, read and write in French, English, and Latin, to sing and dance, and some other things that her father believed every sophisticated young lady should know. Although her mother encouraged the lessons in singing and dancing, both parents soon found that their daughter did not possess the talent for either.

So off the carriage went, moving along until finally it came to a complete stop. The horses halted and the driver jumped off his position in front of the carriage to open the door for his employers. The girl's father got out first, brushing off the black suit that he was wearing and waiting for his family to join him. The girl was still looking out the window, as if in a trance. Her mother, who was still sitting next to her, noticed and decided to get her attention before leaving the carriage.

"Elle, my dear, we have arrived," she stated in her slightly raspy voice, making sure that her daughter acknowledged her before she took the hand that the driver was offering her. She stepped out onto the street, clutching a maroon colored handbag with her pale white hands. Then she turned her head to watch her daughter get helped out of the carriage.

Elle was wearing a blue dress, and she had her dirty blonde hair pinned up in a bun. She squinted at the sun that first hit her eyes, and then looked at her parents. They looked like an odd sort of wealthy couple, her father tall and thin and her mother short and plump. She was sort of in between them, neither tall nor short, neither skinny nor fat. Then her attention was pulled to something else.

Behind her parents was a large building, and she guessed that this was the surprise her father had kept hidden from her. The outside looked magnificent, an elaborate building that must have cost a fortune… but why would her father have taken them there?

"This is it," her father said, ushering his wife and daughter towards the structure. All three of them walked up the steps and he opened the front door for them. Back at the carriage the driver was busy taking their suitcases off and piling them together in order to take them into the building.

On the inside there were workers busy on the job, finishing up their work on the inside of the building. Elle looked around the large room, fascinated by the beauty that was already beginning to show in the people's work.

"What is it papa?" Elle asked as her eyes wandered. She had never been in a place like that before, and in its current state she was not sure what the building was to be used for.

The man smiled at his daughter. He was eager to try his luck with the opera house, using the money he made through his investments in railroads to restore the building. "Our future. I bought the ruins of this place two years ago, and look what they have managed to get done so far. Soon this theatre will be up and running again."

"Theatre?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yes, this used to be an opera house. I'm planning on reopening it when the construction is complete."

"It will be wonderful," her mother commented optimistically, looping her arm with her husband's.

Still looking around, a question popped up in Elle's mind. "What happened here, to turn such a place into ruins?"

"I believe they said the place caught on fire," her father, Monsieur D'aubigne, replied. He didn't seem too interested in knowing the history of the old opera house that he was acquiring, but more into what he was going to do with the place. "Either way, follow me. I made sure that they would have our quarters finished first, so that we would have some place to stay."

Elle followed her parents through the building, and at one point had the strange feeling that someone was watching her. She looked up, but saw nothing but the ceiling, and continued on until her father stopped walking. He then put his hand in his pocket, looking for something. When he found what he was looking for he handed it over to his daughter.

"Here is the key to your room," he said. "We'll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at seven, we will send someone to get you then."

Her parents continued down the hall and she turned to face the door. Her suitcases were sitting outside her door, and she went to put the key in the doorknob. Strangely, the knob turned open without using the key; the door had already been unlocked. She took the key out and completely opened the door. She soon found that her room was furnished, and to her liking.

Elle set the key down on a table that was near the door, and then turned back to bring in her bags. When everything was in the room she shut the door behind her and began to unpack her belongings. After she was done, she took out a novel and sat down on a red velvet sofa that was against the wall on the side of her room. Reading was a pleasure for her; it gave her a chance to step into a story of adventure and intrigue, which was lacking in her current situation.

Hours went by, although Elle did not notice at first because she was engrossed in the novel. Then she began to hear something, but she was not sure what it was. She tried to shrug it off and continue reading, which she found to be impossible. The sound was getting gradually louder, and she could not concentrate on the book. She set it down on the page she left off at and stood up. Where could the noise be coming from? Wait, was it even a noise? It sounded as if someone was singing…

She left her room, attempting to follow the music to the person who was singing it. Not paying attention to where she was going, she let the melody lead her as she put one foot in front of the other. Something came over her, like she wasn't thinking about what she was doing. She was in some sort of trance.

"Mademoiselle?" a voice asked, and snapped Elle out of her stupor.

She looked in front of her and realized that a couple feet in front of her stood a woman. The woman looked like she was in her late forties. She had her grayish brown hair up and across her face was a serious expression.

"Yes?" Elle asked politely.

"Your father sent me to find you and bring you to dinner," she responded. "Follow me to the dining room."

The lady showed her the way, but Elle was not paying close attention. Instead she kept looking back, wondering where she would have been led if she had not crossed paths with the lady. Eventually she was led into a fancy room that had a large table in the middle. Her parents were at each end and she was seated on the side furthest from the door. The table was already set, food was there, and candles were lit.

After she was seated the woman left the room and they began filling their plates with food. Then her father opened a bottle of wine and poured each of them a glass. Elle had not eaten since before noon, so she was starving. She indulged in the scrumptious meal and then turned her attention to her parents.

"So," her father said after taking a sip of the red wine. "How did you find your room? Was it satisfactory?"

"It was perfect," Elle replied. "Thank you papa."

"At first I was weary of the idea of living in an opera house, but this is actually pretty luxurious," Madame D'aubigne stated.

"All of this is new; they had to start from basically nothing. Most of the building was ruined in that fire. On the other side there are the dormitories for the dancers and singers. The lady you met, Madame Giry, is going to be in charge of the girls' dormitories. When they move in I'm sure there will be a number of girls your age, and perhaps you can make some friends," Monsieur D'aubigne said, first directed towards his wife but then to his daughter.

"That is a great idea," his wife responded, looking from him to her daughter. "You need to become more social; always living in your books."

Elle didn't say anything. She knew her mother was right, but she was not sure of she would get along with those types of girls. She herself was by no means considered good at either dancing or singing, and so they would have nothing in common. Also her father now owned the theatre; therefore she would be their boss's daughter. Either way she was not going to give up reading, and she was not going to backtalk her mother.

Her father noticed the look on her face, and so said to her in a reassuring voice, "Don't worry Elle, I promise you will like it here. It's very different from our old home, yes, but you will get adjusted to it. Maybe tomorrow I can get Madame Giry to give you a tour."

She smiled at her father, thanking him for his caring. "I would like that very much."

"Good."

"Oh, I almost forgot. The tailor is coming the day after tomorrow. We are having new dresses made for the opening of the opera house," her mother told her. She took a break to have another sip of wine and then continued. "I want you to look nice at your introduction to the people of the city."

"Of course mama," Elle said, and then turned to look at her father. "May I be excused?"

"Certainly," he answered. "Don't forget, breakfast tomorrow morning is at eight. You remember the way, right?"

She nodded and then got up out of her seat. Elle left the room and headed back to her room. She remembered that she forgot to lock it, so she was not surprised to find the knob unlocked. Closing the door behind her, she entered her room and moved over to dresser. She pulled out a nightgown and changed into it, hanging up her gown in her wardrobe. Then she sat in front of her mirror and pulled the pin that was holding her long hair up in a bun out, causing her hair to curl down past her shoulders.

She picked up her brush and began slowly brushing her hair, thinking to herself. What had she heard earlier- or more importantly- who? With these thoughts in her mind she set the brush back down and walked over to her new bed. She laid down on it and pulled her blankets over her, resting her head on a soft silky black pillow. Elle closed her eyes, and let her mind wander. Soon she drifted off to a world where anything can happen, a world of dreams.

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**A/N:** Hi there. This is my first Phantom of the Opera fic, so I hope that you like it. Please review! 


	2. The First Encounter

**Chapter 2**

When Elle began blinking her rusty green eyes open she was blinded by the light, which had poured in through the windows that she forgot to close the drapes to. Yawning, she got out of her bed and looked at the time. It was only six thirty in the morning, and breakfast was not until eight. That gave her half an hour to get ready and a whole hour to do whatever she pleased.

She opened her rose stained wooden wardrobe in order to pick out a dress to wear. Her hand landed upon one of her rather favorite gowns and she took it out. The dress was a dark shade of violet, with black accents on the chest and sleeves. The dress had a built-in corset, and she loved the way that it shaped her figure. When she wore her gowns she felt like she was one of those opera stars that her mother had always talked about: Josephine, Carlotta, Estelle…

She used to dream of being like them and living the exciting life of being on stage and noticed. Now that she was older she knew that her dream was just a dream and nothing more. Her life was not meant to be exciting or star-studded, and she accepted her fate.

Elle changed into her dress and sat down at her vanity mirror to do her hair. She pulled half of the shiny dirty blonde hair up and slipped in pins to keep it up. When she was satisfied she sat there and thought of what there was to do. Her father told her that she could have a tour of the place that day, and she was eager to have one.

Her eyes wandered about the room and fell on the book that she had left open on the page that she left off. That was when she had gotten herself distracted. She told herself that she was hearing things, no one could possibly been singing there. The singers/dancers were not moving in until tomorrow, she heard her father say, and today he was expecting a visit from the new directors.

She moved over to the sofa and picked up the book, with every intention of continuing where she left off. It was surprisingly easy for her to get back into the story, and soon time was quickly passing her by. The next time she looked up from her book she saw that it was only a couple minutes until eight o'clock. She would have to get moving so she would not be late. Setting the book back down again, but this time putting a slip of paper in as a bookmark first, and she headed out the door.

Elle vaguely remembered the way she made it to the dining room the previous night, but somehow she found her way there on her own. She was on time, and as she entered through the door her parents were just sitting down.

"Good morning," she said to both of them with a small smile and then took her place at the side of the table.

"Did you sleep well last night?" her mother asked her, and then picked up her napkin and held it in front of her mouth to stifle a cough. Elle saw, but was not worried. Lately her mother had a small cough, but she was assured that it was nothing serious.

"Yes," Elle answered. "I was very tired after that long carriage ride."

"Well you won't have one of those for a while," her father stated cheerily. "And I talked to Madame Giry. She will be taking you around after we finish eating."

"Thank you again papa," she replied gratefully. "I can't wait to see the rest of this magnificent place. It must have been a wonder back when it was still running."

"We hear it was quite popular," her mother responded.

The three of them ate their meal quickly, each one ready to start their day. Her parents were going to be busy the entire day, talking to the directors and setting everything up. The construction on the entrance was just about finished, and they had to figure out how long it would take for the cast to be chosen and hired, which would have to start straight away.

Elle, on the other hand, had less important things to worry about. Actually, since she had no real responsibilities she was free to her own devices most of the time. After breakfast she met up with Madame Giry in the hall, and she began her tour.

"Where shall we begin?" Madame Giry asked out loud. "How about the theatre?"

Elle nodded, and she followed the woman down the hallway, to the right, and down a set of stairs. They passed through the foyer and then the lady opened one of the doors to the grand theatre. She let Elle enter first, and then she came in behind her.

She was dazzled by the grandeur of the room. It was the largest room she had ever seen, with rows upon rows of seats and boxes positions above the seats. The large stage in the middle was welcoming, and she could not wait to see her first play there. The ceiling was painted, and there seemed to be gold everywhere. A frame above the stage was engraved into a design, and she could not believe that this room only took two years to construct.

"Come Mademoiselle," the Madame said, turning her around and bringing her back to reality. "Let me show you the rest."

Elle was then led to the dormitories where the members of the cast were going to stay, to the practice room, and to a small chapel in the back. It was set up with three rows of candles, for people to go there and pray and light a candle for someone they had lost. The room gave her a melancholy feeling, and the draft from the stained glass window made her shudder.

When it was over she was led back to the main hall. "I must be leaving you now, I have some duties to attend to," Giry explained. "You know your way around now, but don't go wandering about where I haven't shown you."

The lady turned around and was beginning to head off, but Elle stopped her. "Madame?"

Giry turned around again and said, "Yes?"

"May I ask you what happened here? My father said there was a fire and then it was left deserted, as ruins. I hear you worked here before, so you should know."

"That is what happened to some extent," she answered, and a gloomy expression came over her face, as if she were reliving some sad experience. "And that is all that you need know. Why are you so curious?"

"No reason," Elle lied. "I was simply wondering the history of what was once a magical building. Sorry to have detained you from your work."

"It is no problem at all."

"Merci beaucoup," (thank you very much) Elle called out, thanking her for the tour as the strange woman walked off with her dark dress swooshing behind her.

"Je vous en prie," (you're welcome) she heard call back to her as a response, and then she was alone.

Now that she was finally alone she was not sure what to do. She had a whole day ahead of her, maybe not a whole day but at least most of one. It was now only a quarter after nine, and there was no one for her to talk to. No one to bother her.

She had basically the whole place to herself, and she knew just where she wanted to go. Elle retraced her footsteps back to the theatre, which was by far her favorite room in the building. She walked up the aisles and past the many rows of seats towards the stage. She felt at peace, and like she was home. The stage could be her home.

Elle shook her head of those foolish thoughts and walked the steps to get onto the stage. She stood up, and centered herself on the platform. Then she looked out at the non-existent audience, the thousands of empty seats. Lord, what it must be like to actually stand there and perform when the auditorium is full as opposed to not a soul in sight. That must be a strong feeling, and even stronger is when the audience applauds. _'Strong indeed,'_ Elle thought to herself as she stood there.

She moved about the stage a bit, and then picked one spot to stay at. Gathering her skirts, she sat herself down with her legs both at one side and her right palm resting on the ground. Then she closed her eyes and pictured what it would be like for her to be applauded on that stage, and have roses tossed up at her, but she was immediately snapped out of her dreaming when she heard a sound.

"Getting a feel for the stage?" a man's voice boomed from somewhere within the room. Elle's head shot up and her eyes darted around. The voice had startled her. She could not see anyone, but according to the sound, someone was there.

"I'm sorry," she replied, getting up off of the stage that she had been lying on. She was scared that she couldn't see who it was, but she figured that it must be one of the workers who were still hanging around to finish and pack up their tools. "I did not think that anyone was in here."

"Do you sing? Dance?" the voice asked again, not responding to her previous statement. The voice seemed to be coming from all over the auditorium, how could that be possible? "You obviously have some interest in the arts."

"No Monsieur," her rich voice answered timidly, looking slowly from left to right to see if she could see any movement or detect the presence of the man. "I had some lessons in both, but I was found not to have talent in either."

"I see," was the response. "Then prove it to me. Sing."

"Pardonnez-moi," (pardon me) Elle said, frightened by the order to sing and the mysterious stranger who had yet to reveal himself to her. It was if it were no man at all, but a voice like that of God's that can seem everywhere and nowhere at once. "But I must go."

She ran off the stage and kept going. Then the feeling came back again, the feeling of being followed. Was the man, or whatever it was, following after her? She felt butterflies in her stomach and was too scared to look behind her or to stop running. It was hard to run with her dress, but she kept going and did not stop until she ran straight into someone.

Hands came out to balance her, and she glanced up to see who it was that she ran into. A man stood there. He looked as if he were around her age, with light brown hair and soft blue eyes. His eyes were the first thing she saw; they reminded her of the sky on a summer day. Then she was brought back to the situation and remembered what she had been running from. She turned around quickly to see if anyone was there, but it was only him and her. Her pursuer was gone, or so it seemed.

"Mademoiselle, are you ok?" he asked. "You look as if you have seen a ghost."

"I think so," Elle replied, turning back to face him and then mumbled the second part to herself. "More like heard a ghost."

He held out his hand to receive hers. "My name is Hector, and you are?"

To be continued...

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**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews. Please review! (I appreciate it)

**Galasriniel**- I'm so glad you like it! I'm not sure how this is going to turn out and the encouragement helps.

**PopcornShirimp**- Thank you!


	3. The Letter

**Chapter 3**

"My name is Elle," she answered shyly, and still a bit anxious from the incident in the theatre. "Elle D'aubigne. My father owns the opera house."

"I see," he replied. "Well, Mademoiselle D'aubigne, I'm glad to see that you are okay. What frightened you so, to make you run that fast?"

"Oh nothing," she quickly replied, not wanting to tell him what had happened. He most likely would not believe her and, whoever that was back there, she did not want to talk about that strange encounter. "I was just startled. I thought I heard a noise, but I guess I'm hearing things. Excuse me Monsieur Hector, but what are you doing here?"

He laughed and then he politely answered her. "I am the son of Charles Tremaine. He was hired as the main director here."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elle stated. She was probably going to be seeing a lot more of this man because of his affiliation with her father, so she had to be friendly with him. "Are you from around here?"

"Actually we moved here from Britain three years ago," he said. "My father is British and my mother is French, so she convinced him to move us back down to her old home. He was so interested in getting a job at this particular opera house because my mother used to come here as a little girl, and he believes that the bright lights of this palace will shine again."

"So does my father," she replied. No wonder his English had not a trace of French in it, he spent most of his life in Britain. He seemed like a nice young man, but for some reason she found that she could not focus on him. Her thoughts were on the mystery man, the stranger in the dark who keeps to the shadows.

"I was just able to go out to lunch-" he began.

"It's lunchtime already?" she asked, caught off guard at the leap in time. Last thing she knew it was only nine fifteen, now it was noon. Where had the time gone? She hadn't done much to make it pass, but pass it did.

"Yes," he answered patiently. "Would you like to join me?"

She thought for a moment, and decided to accept the kind offer. The only other choice she would have is to grab some lunch while trying not to disturb her parents, who were busy with the directors, and head off to her room. "I would love to."

Elle accepted his arm when it was offered to her and he escorted her out to where he had a carriage waiting. He helped her into the carriage and then hopped in after her. The driver pulled the reigns and then the horses took off slowly down the street. She turned her head to look at the man sitting next to her, and felt awkward. She was not sure what to say.

"How do you like your new home?" he inquired, trying to start a conversation in order to ease the tension in the atmosphere.

"Very much so," she responded. She had liked her new home; the opera house fascinated her and felt as if it were filled with so much history. It was the strange occurrences that troubled her, and although she was curious about the truth behind the darkness, she was more apprehensive. Elle had been that way her whole life, loving the thought of adventure but never ready to have one of her own. That was one reason everyone thought she could never perform.

"Glad to hear it," he said pleasantly.

Lunch went well, and Elle found herself thinking fondly of this new man in her life. Hector had an agreeable countenance and always did whatever he could to make her feel comfortable. After only knowing him a couple hours she felt like they were close friends, well somewhat close. It was nice to have a friend after being lonely so many years.

He dropped her off back at the opera house and said that he would see her soon. Then he took off in his black carriage as she entered the entrance hall. The workers were gone, but in their stead was a line of people, men and women, girls and boys, starting from within the theatre. She thought that the cast was not coming until the next day, but then guessed that they were now choosing the cast. These people were all auditioning to join.

Elle walked past them and up the set of stairs that led to her family's quarters. She treaded down the hall and stopped outside her room. Then she took out her key and opened the door. With a sigh she entered her own domain and took a seat at her small private piano. It had been a present from her parents for her tenth birthday, and although she had played on many pianos since then, it had always been her favorite.

For some entertainment she laid out some music and began to play. The music soothed her, and she felt in control. Then, as the piece was winding down, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Sitting on top of her instrument was a letter, with a red skull seal. She immediately stopped playing and picked it up.

Breaking the seal, she wondered who it could be from and how whoever had written it got into her room when it was locked. These questions puzzled her, and so she read on in order to hopefully find the answers.

_My dear Mademoiselle D'aubigne,_

_Welcome to my Opera House. I see you have made yourself at home. _

_My apologies, I did not intend to frighten you, and you took off with such a start. It would be wise not to run next time. _

_As to your singing, perhaps you have not had proper instruction. I'm extending my services out to you, to see if what you say is really true or if there is a hidden side of you that even you are not aware of. _

_Be in the theatre at eleven._

_It would also be wise to keep my existence to yourself. _

_-O.G. _

There was only one person who this letter could be from, and that was the stranger from earlier on in the day. She was even more confused now that he left her that letter then she was shortly after she met him, if you could say that they met. Elle had no idea how he had gotten the letter in her room, and she was now worried that she was not safe in her own room since she knew that he could get in there.

Another thing that mystified her was that he knew her name, and not only that but he referred to the opera house as his own. Her father owned the Opera Populaire, and had owned it for two years, so why was some strange man calling it his? It made no sense to her.

Elle was not sure if he was threatening her by the tone of his letter or not, but the warnings gave off an ominous vibe. She decided to listen to his little snippets of advice, not because she trusted his words, but because she was afraid of what he might do. She had not even seen him, and just that fact alone gave him power over her. The last thing she wanted to do was upset a man whom she was not sure would cause harm to her or not.

Then he brought up singing. He seemed to believe that she had some unknown ability to sing that he, for some reason, thought he could bring out in her. She doubted his words, truly believing that she was never meant to sing. That life was not for her; otherwise it would have happened by now. Also he told her to be at the theatre at eleven. Did he want to give her singing lessons?

Elle had to make up her mind on whether to go or not. If she did not, then who knows what could happen to her, but if she did go then she still won't know what to expect. Just thinking about this situation made her feel like a silly little girl again. She did not even know this man and she was already frightened out of her wits by him. All he wanted was to hear her sing, and she ran. What exactly was she so afraid of? Of singing?

She would go at eleven, and she would prove to him that she was right, and then he would leave her be. Until then she would return to playing her piano and wait for dinner to roll around. Time always flies when you are busy doing something that you love to do, and music had always been at the top of her list.

It still bothered her that she knew nothing, but Elle hoped to get some answers soon. Without noticing it, she had begun to hum along with the song she was playing. Her fingers gracefully hit each key, and the many years of practice she had acquired were evident. Keeping herself busy was just the trick to push all worries from the mind and coax herself into being relaxed.

Elle's fingers busied themselves with the black and white piano keys for many hours. Soon she found that it would be dinner in about half and hour, and she put her music away. Then her eyes darted to the letter, and she picked it up again. She would have to hide it, just in case someone came in her room. He had told her to keep his existence a secret, after all. Elle slipped the letter away in one of her jewelry boxes and then looked at herself in the mirror.

Her day was much more eventful then what she was used to back in the country. She fixed her hair where a pin had fallen out, and then checked it in the mirror. Elle was ready for dinner with her parents, and she hoped that their day had gone well.

She left her room, locking her door behind her, and headed to the dining room yet again. The directors had finally left, and now it was just the three of them. Judging by the expression on her father's face she could tell that the meeting went better then expected, and she remembered the long line of people she had seen when coming in. Perhaps casting had gone well too.

"How was your day?" Monsieur D'aubigne asked his daughter.

"Interesting," she replied. "I met someone today. His name is Hector Tremaine; he said he was one of the directors' sons."

"Oh yes," her father said. "Mister Tremaine. He is our primary director."

"Lovely man," her mother commented. "And his son is such a gentleman."

"We achieved a lot today," he stated proudly. "So many people wanted to work for us, but we could only hire a certain number. Did you see the crowd earlier today?"

Elle nodded, and began eating her food. She was glad that her father was having a smooth transition so far. If only he had known what she had been up to, or about the man who claims to own this place, then he would not have been so calm. But alas he was, and she was not about to inform him of her new secret.

After dinner she retired back to her room to wait until it was time for her to sneak off to the theatre. Maybe she would be able to get a face to place with the voice she had heard, or maybe she would learn more about him, this place, herself… Only time will tell.

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**A/N:** Please review!

**Galasriniel-** Don't worry, there will be lots of him to come. Thank you for the kind review. As to everything else, well, you'll see as you read on.


	4. When The Night Is Over

**Chapter 4**

When Elle realized that it was time to slip off to the theatre she felt knots in her stomach. She was as nervous as one girl could get, so she fiddled with the skirts of her dress as she walked and with her other hand held a lit candle. She made sure to lock her door again, and then she quietly tiptoed down the hall. After passing her parents room she let out a small breath which she had been holding back. Then she made her way down the staircase, holding the candle in front of her to see where she was going.

The darkness terrified her, because she never knew what could be lurking in the shadows. As a child she was scared to sleep in the dark and she would make her father sit by her side until she fell asleep. Now that she was older she was less afraid of all that and desperately tried to let go of her childhood fancies, but there was something about this place that unnerved her. Maybe it was because it was new to her, or maybe there was something more to it than that. People are always scared of what they do not understand.

She slowly opened the door to the theatre, trying to be as quiet as she could. Then Elle gradually walked towards the stage, where she saw candles already set up to give light for whatever it was she was there for. It looked like no one was around, but she knew that someone had to have been there to set up the candles. She centered herself on stage, slightly shaking and waiting for something to happen.

The clock struck eleven, and she could sense a sort of presence in the room. He was there, but she was not sure where. A voice once again called out to her. "I see you got my letter. It was smart of you to come."

"I'm sorry Monsieur," she replied, her voice quavering. Although Elle was fearful, she wanted some answers. "But you know my name and I do not yet know yours. How did you come to be at my father's opera house?"

"I have owned this place far longer than he has," he answered, still not showing himself. "I am the Opera Ghost. Now, enough of this, sing!"

O.G., so that was what that stood for. Elle still was not sure she understood why he was there, and she wondered if anyone knew about him. Her parents obviously did not, but maybe Madame Giry did. She had worked there before, so she could know something. Then she remembered Giry's warning, 'don't go wandering about where I haven't shown you'. Well, she had shown her the theatre, so Elle had not gone against her word. The question was, was he why Madame Giry did not want her wandering around?

"I- I can't sing," Elle said. "I tried to tell you that before. My voice has no song."

"Let me be the judge of that," was his reply. "Begin with your scales."

She went through with his order, aware that nothing she says would make him believe her. Her uneasiness was apparent with her singing, and that did not help since her scales were already a bit unsteady. Even her own ears did not take pleasure in the notes that left her mouth.

"I'm afraid you are wasting your time," Elle stated when she finished, disappointed with her own voice. She felt that it was a lost cause, and she did not understand why this man, this Opera Ghost, would want to spend his time helping a girl he did not even know.

"Do not tell me when I am wasting my time," he scolded harshly, and then added an afterthought with a softer tone of voice. She heard him move about. "Maybe I am wasting my time with someone who isn't grateful."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," she explained. She had not meant to offend him. "It's just that I will never be able to sing beautifully."

"You simply have to try," the Opera Ghost replied. "Now do your scales again, and this time relax your jaw."

Elle did her scales and waited for a response.

"That was awful," he honestly commented. In the audience she saw a shadow moving, it was coming towards her. "Your breathing is all wrong."

He approached the stage for the first time and came closer to her. She became tense again, not sure what her instructor was going to do. She saw his face, or what wasn't covered by a white mask, for the first time. He was wearing a black cape, a black jacket underneath, and black pants. The sight of him, finally, startled her, but it was not because he was ugly. Actually, what she could see of his face was quite handsome, it was just that she did not know what to expect. He continued moving closer to her until he was right behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck.

Due to all of the tension she had forgotten to breathe. At last she gasped for air, remembering that breathing was essential to live. He could sense her fear and her reserve. Her body was stiff as a floorboard, and she tried desperately not to move even an inch. He was, after all, only about an inch behind her.

He put one hand around her waist, and it landed on her stomach. "Your scales," he demanded, and she was not about to disobey. She sang, and he held her stomach, teaching her to breathe from her diaphragm and not her chest. When she was done he backed off and moved over to the side of the stage. She turned to look at him. "Better, much better."

"Thank you," she said, in almost a whisper. Elle could not believe how much better she actually sounded when she did as he said. This man obviously knew something about music, and she wanted to learn.

"I can work with you after all," he stated. "That is, if you want to improve."

"I do," she responded.

"Then you will do as I say and not question me. Understand?" Elle nodded. "Good, then we will meet back in here tomorrow, same time. I trust you will go straight to your room and get some much needed rest."

"Good night Monsieur," she replied, and felt his eyes watch her as she left the stage and walked out of the theatre. Elle used the light of her candle to guide her back to her room, and once she got there her exhaustion kicked in. She fell asleep on her bed without even changing, and a soft breeze put the light of the candle out.

She fell into dreams of song and dance, a masked man, flashes of red and black… A woman and a man running, confessing their love to each other, a lonely man abandoned, torches and people screaming… The building going up in flames, more shouting, the music drowned out by chaos…

Elle woke up sweating; her dreams had disturbed her. She was not even sure what happened in them, but now that she was awake she calmed down. This time her curtains were closed, and so she got up out of bed and opened them to let the light in. It was eight o'clock. She was late to breakfast, and when she looked in the mirror she realized that she was still dressed from the previous day.

Her hair was a mess, her smooth skin was clammy, and her dress was wrinkled. Hurriedly she tried to change her dress, and right as she was about to zipper it up there was a knock at her door. "Elle? Elle are you in there? It's time for breakfast."

It was her father's voice. "One minute," she answered, combing her hair and trying to make herself look presentable. "I'm almost ready."

Elle hurried to the door and opened it. Her father was standing there, and he looked concerned. "Are you alright, my darling? Your face is pale."

"I had a nightmare," she answered, joining him in the hall. "That is all."

They walked together down the hallway to the dining room where she expected her mother to be waiting for them. When she entered the room she saw that it was empty, and she turned her face to look at her father. "Where is mama?"

"She is not feeling well today," he responded solemnly. "So she is resting. We will eat our breakfast without her."

Elle did not ask questions, but she felt worried for her mother. They always had breakfast together, all three of them, and it was odd that on one random day she would stay in her room. Change disturbed her, and she did not know what to think. Instead of talking, they ate their meal in silence and occasionally glanced up.

"Many people will be moving into the dormitories today," he informed her as he finished eating. "So do not be afraid if you see strangers running about. And I know something that will cheer you up, Mister Tremaine is coming back today and bringing his son with him again. You seemed like you were charmed by him the other day."

"He is nice," Elle replied. Hector had been kind to her, and she did not regret meeting him, although for some reason she was not immediately excited by the fact that he was coming. That did not bother her though, for she had only known him a day.

"The kind of man I hope you marry someday," her father doted, giving his daughter a smile.

She knew that her father only wanted what was best for her, but she was not sure whether or not she wanted for herself what he did. Elle dabbed her face with her cloth napkin, and then set it down. "May I be excused, papa?"

"Certainly," he answered, and so she stood up and left the room.

Elle wandered back to her room, and sat down. She was in such a rush for breakfast that she did not get a chance to wash her face, and so she started to do that now. Then she dried herself off and looked up, face to face with a mirror. At first she was just looking at herself, but then she noticed something in the background. She instantly turned around to look at it directly with her own eyes. There was something sitting on her table that had not been there before.

She got up from her seat and slowly moved over to the table. Sitting on top of it was… sheet music. Elle picked up the sheets and looked at them. The Opera Ghost must have left them there for her so she could prepare for her next lesson. The song was entitled 'When the Night is Over'.

Taking the music in her hand, she headed over to her piano. She propped the sheets up and began to play. Elle thought that if she got a feel for the tune then the music would come to her easier, and she was right. After playing the lovely tune once, she started over again from the beginning, this time singing the words that were neatly written beneath the lines of notes.

"_Do I dare to dream_

_Without you by my side_

_How to act, what do to_

_When the night is over__…"_

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**A/N:** Thank for you the reviews. Please review! 

**Kate-** Thank you. It is based on the movie.

**skye717-** Actually I was using O.G. for Opera Ghost. Thanks for the review, glad you like it so far.

**Galasriniel-** lol, thank you.


	5. Curiosity Takes Hold

**Chapter 5**

A knock at the door interrupted Elle's practicing. She took her slender fingers from the keys and asked in a melodious voice, "Yes?"

"Excuse me Mademoiselle," the cultured voice of Madame Giry replied. Elle found that although the woman seemed stern on the outside, and probably would treat the girls that way, she was kind and polite to her and her family. "But I wanted you to meet my daughter."

"Of course," Elle said, getting up from her piano and closing the sheets of music before heading to open her door. When she did, standing in front of her was Giry and a woman who looked about a year or two older than her. She had a youthful face and pale blonde hair. Elle could not see any resemblance of the mother in her daughter.

"This is my Meg," Giry continued, directed towards Elle. She seemed satisfied with the introduction, and turned to leave. "I'll leave you two to your own devices, I have to go check up on something."

"Hi," Elle said to the young woman with a friendly smile, although she really had no interest in meeting Madame Giry's family. "My name is Elle. It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine Mademoiselle," Meg responded. "Would you like to come with me and meet the other girls? They are all huddled up in the ballet foyer. We don't start rehearsals for a couple of days, so now everyone is sitting around telling stories."

Not wanting to be rude, Elle agreed and walked with her new acquaintance down to the foyer. There were girls ranging from about seven years old all the way up to Meg's age, and she was sure that there were more than just who was there. They walked in during the beginning of a story, which a girl that looked about a year younger than Elle was telling while surrounded by the little ones.

"Persephone was a beautiful young woman. Everyone loved her for her beauty, and none put next to her could compare. She was so lovely that even Hades, the dark God of the underworld, was entranced by her and decided that he wanted her for himself," the young woman said, emphasizing certain parts as every good story-teller knows to do.

The girls urged her to continue. "So, one day, Persephone went out to collect flowers on the plain of Enna. Right as she was bending down to pick another flower, the earth suddenly opened up before her. Out of the gap came Hades himself. He kidnapped her and brought her with him back down to the underworld."

"So what happened?" an innocent sounding little girl asked, and Elle's eyes traveled from her back to the story-teller. She had never heard this tale before, and she was interested in what was going to happen as well.

"Well, her mother Demeter was very upset at the disappearance. She loved her daughter and wanted her back. When she found out what happened she withdrew into loneliness, and the earth ceased to be fertile. Zeus, Persephone's father, sent Hermes down to the underworld in order to get Hades to send Persephone back. He finally agreed to, but first he gave her a pomegranate. She ate it, thinking it harmless, but from then on she was bound to the underworld forever."

"Wasn't there anything she could do?" another girl asked.

"No," she answered, and continued the story. "She had to stay there one-third of every year. The rest of the year she would stay with her mother. When she was with Hades, her mother would be miserable and refuse to let anything grow. That is why we have winter."

The room grew silent for a second, and Meg spoke up. "Everyone, this is Elle. She is the owner's daughter."

Some welcomed her and others fell into their own private conversations. The girl who had been telling the Greek myth stepped forward and joined Elle and Meg over in the corner of the foyer. "Hello, I am Nadia."

"I loved your story," Elle commented truthfully. She noticed Meg wander off, but she kept her attention on who she was talking to. "Where did you ever learn of it?"

"My father was interested in mythology. Every night before he put me to sleep when I was little he would tell me a story, and they were always about the gods and goddesses. The one I told is my favorite out of all of them; it was the last one he told me before the accident."

"Accident?"

"He was a fisherman. One day his boat got caught in a storm and he never came back home," the girl sadly answered.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Elle replied, feeling bad about bringing up the death of the girl's father. She was lucky that she had never lost someone so close to her, and she could not even imagine what it must feel like for that to happen to someone.

"Yes," Nadia responded. Her head looked back up from poignant memories and a smile spread over her face. Elle noticed that she had honey brown eyes that a mischievous glint in them. Her pale skin had quite a contrast with her midnight black hair, which shined like it was wet, but it wasn't. "I have a brilliant idea. Come with me."

Elle had no idea what her new friend was talking about, but she followed her nonetheless. Even if she had not intended on following, it was too late, for the girl had grabbed her hand and pulled her along after her. Nadia led her through various hallways and rooms that she had only been to once before, during the tour, yet they kept walking.

They went up several sets of stairs, further and further until they were as far away from the ground as possible. Then, abruptly, they stopped. Elle bumped into the girl in front of her, surprised at the quick stop. Nadia opened the one door ahead of them, and walked through without waiting for her companion. Elle followed after her, not wanted to be left alone in a part of the building that she was not yet very familiar with.

How her acquaintance had gotten to be in such a short amount of time she did not know, but she stepped through the threshold and immediately felt like she was being blinded. They were on the roof of the opera house, and the sun was brightly shining its rays down on them. After a few moments Elle's eyes adjusted to the large amount of light, and she looked for Nadia.

She was standing by the edge, looking out at the city. Elle joined her, but was too weary of heights to lean as far out as her carefree friend did. The sight was something, and it is not everyday that one can get quite a view such as a tall building is willing to offer.

"It's beautiful," Nadia said, still looking out. "Isn't it?"

"Indeed," she answered. "I did not know that this was here. How did you?"

"Exploration, of course," the lighthearted girl responded with a laugh. "And my father's excellent sense of direction. We shouldn't stay long, the others may wonder where we have gotten to. Although, who knows, they may have forgotten about us by now."

Elle could perceive the humor in her voice, and even if her friend had been serious, the situation was highly improbable. They stayed there for a few more minutes, and then left the way they came. Nadia lead the way, even though Elle remembered clearly the path they had taken.

The girls parted at the foyer, Nadia returned to the other girls and Elle wandered back to her family's quarters. As she walked down the hallway, the sound of her father's voice caught her attention, and so she stopped to listen.

"You expect me to pay this man, or whatever he is, twenty thousand francs a month and give up a box to him at every performance?" Elle heard her father ask in a rather loud and incensed tone of voice. She could hear him pacing back and forth in the room.

"The previous owners did not listen to him," Madame Giry responded calmly. "And look what happened."

"Someone must be playing a trick on me," his voice stated, he sounded as if he were calming down. Elle heard someone plop down on a chair. "Even if this Opera Ghost existed at one point in time, he would have perished with the Opera Populaire or fled for his own safety."

"That may be Monsieur, but I know for a fact that he is back because I received a letter too."

"When were you going to tell me?" He did not wait for her to answer. "Well, what did it say?"

"Only that I should bring him his monthly pay myself, and leave it for him in box five," the woman explained. The sound of paper being snatched out of someone's hand could be faintly heard if she were to press her ear to the door. "Read for yourself."

There was a couple seconds silence. "How do I know that you didn't write these letters yourself?"

"That is up to your own judgment, but remember that you said yourself your office was locked the whole day and yet you found the letter there waiting for you on your desk. The only key to your office is in your own possession. There was no way I could have put the letter there."

"That is true. I must be going mad… It couldn't have been you. No, no, I believe you. That is why I hired you after all."

"Monsieur D'aubigne, I would not worry about him. If you do what he asks then he will not cause any problems for you or the opera. I know this from experience, I have spent most of my life working in this opera house."

"A lot of money will be lost…" And soon the voices turned into low mumbles and no matter how hard Elle strained her ear, she could not understand a word of it. Soon the sound of footsteps distracted her, and she hurried off to her room.

The conversation she had overheard, which she admitted to herself was rude of her to do, between her own father and Madame Giry was one of a curious nature. At first she had not understood why herfather sounded so distressed and upset, but then things became slightly clearer to her. Elle's interest was not completely peaked though, until the mention of the Opera Ghost. So he had contacted her father as well, and wanted to be paid monthly. Yet she herself was still not sure who this man was.

She was sure that he was a man, unless her memory deceived her. Although, now when she looked back at her first lesson with him, she was not sure if she had seen him at all. Maybe Elle had hallucinated, or fallen asleep on the stage. It was late at the time, and she had been quite tired. Yet she could still hear his soft voice in her ear…

Was he a man or was he indeed the Opera Ghost that he said he was? Elle was beginning to doubt herself. Perhaps he was a ghost, but then why a ghost would want money was beyond her. Whoever it was, they had found some way of breaking into her father's locked office, and she felt bad for her father. He had sounded so, so not in control.

She did not know enough about the situation to judge anyone involved in it, but now she became even more inquisitive about her new instructor. Elle was stuck between two sides of her, the quietly obeying one and the nosy one. She knew that she could never ask him anything herself, because that was the one rule of her lessons. She gets to learn how to sing properly, but she can never question him. To that she had readily agreed and there was no going back on her word.

The only new information she had now was that Madame Giry did know of the ghost, and had dealt with him indirectly before. Maybe she had even seen him herself once, but that was not clear. Also now her father was aware, and the future of the opera house rested on his shoulders. Elle did not understand why they left their countryside for such a burden, but in a way she was happy they did.

Elle would have to learn to be content with things how they were, and be ready for lunch. She remembered that the directors were coming back again, and along with them Hector. It would not be a surprise if they showed up soon, so she wanted to gather herself together. She secretly wondered if her dad could do the same in his current condition.

So she waited, as it would soon be time for lunch in the dining room, and she busied herself with looking over the music once more. For her lesson she would be ready, but she felt like she was still not in control of her own voice.

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**A/N: **Thank you all for reviewing. Please review!

**PopcornShirimp**- Thank you. Lol, damn straight, in the movie anyway.

**gamegirl13**- Gracias, glad you like.

**lizzard**- Thanks for reviewing.


	6. L’Opera Magnifique

**Chapter 6**

Several minutes before the clock in her room struck twelve, Elle left her room and gracefully made her way down the hall. When she entered the dining room, she found that the table was already two thirds of the way full. Her father was seated, along with two men that she did not recognize, and Hector Tremaine.

"Ahh, here she is," her father said to them, apparently much improved from how he had sounded earlier. "This is my lovely daughter Elle. Elle, these are the directors, Mister Tremaine and Mister Bolster. I believe you already know Hector."

"Indeed, I do," she replied, returning a polite smile to Hector who looked pleased to see her. Then she turned her green eyes to the directors. Tremaine was the one with gray hair, thin black spectacles, and a short mustache. His companion, Bolster, was a plump fellow with a jolly grin on his chubby face and an almost completely bald head. "It is a pleasure to meet you both, Monsieurs."

They nodded, and entreated for her to join them at the table. She ended up sitting next to Mister Bolster, with Hector directly across from her. She felt more comfortable with him there, because then she would have someone to talk to if they begin to discuss business. That was her first thought, until she realized that Hector would be looking interestedly in her direction most of the time.

"When will your charming wife be joining us?" Mister Tremaine asked her father.

"She sends her deepest apologies," he responded. Her mother was not coming to eat, just like she did that morning at breakfast. "But we must eat without her. She has been bed-ridden all day, and is not able to enjoy the pleasure of your company."

"What a shame!" Mister Bolster exclaimed, apparently a bit disappointed, although he seemed like a naturally excitable man. "Please do send her our regrets at not being able to be graced by her presence again."

"I will, gentlemen, and I am sure that she will lament her illness even more."

"Yes, well the meal smells divine," Mister Tremaine stated, changing the topic. Everyone seemed tired of throwing superficial compliments back and forth, and was now ready to dig in. "Shall we have a toast first?"

"That is a wonderful idea," Bolster responded. He raised his glass of wine, and waited for everyone else at the table to do the same. They did, and so then he continued. "To the success of the new _L'Opera Magnifique_!"

Everyone assented and repeated his toast before taking a sip of the red wine that filled up one-third of their glasses. They then set them back down unceremoniously and began to feast on the lunch that had been prepared by the restaurant across the street. The meal turned out to be exactly as good as it smelled, and the directors were not hesitant at shelling out more compliments.

As the eating died down, just as Elle had suspected would happen, the conversation turned into a discussion of business.

"We still have to find our star," Tremaine began, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses at the same time. He set them back on his face, and looked up at Monsieur D'aubigne. "We want to start work on the new production as soon as possible."

"But there is some good news," Bolster animatedly proclaimed with a pleased smile. He seemed proud of himself. "We were able to convince Estelle La Rous to come and audition, although she is my first choice. Her name suites her well, for I believe Estelle means star in French, and a star is what she surely is becoming. She is very well-known in Nice. She is not currently under contract, so we have a chance."

"I have heard of her," Elle's father finally commented, appearing as if he were in deep thought. He rubbed his stubby chin with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. "Born into a wealthy family, with the trademark of long brilliant red curls."

"She will be absolutely perfect for the lead role of Carmen," Bolster replied, not at all surprised that the owner had heard of the singer.

Elle's interest in their exchange was nonexistent and, when she caught the beautiful baby blue eyes of Hector, he began talking to her. The three men did not notice the side conversation. "Are you as excited as your father is about the opening?"

"Oh yes," Elle answered softly. "There is nothing that I love as much as music. For his sake I hope that everything goes well."

"I would not worry about that, he seems like a very prudent man."

"He certainly is. Are you going to become a director, like your father? I noticed that you join them often when they come to work here."

"I will take up the business one day," he answered. "But now I am simply observing."

"You must love the opera," she replied. Anyone who dedicates most of their life to work in the opera must love it, or at least find some facet of it appealing.

"Who doesn't?" he asked rhetorically with a smirk, which revealed pearly white teeth.

The conversation ended there, for when she turned her head slightly she saw the three men stand up and push their chairs back under the table. Hector and Elle mimicked them, and turned their attention to the men.

"Come Hector," Mister Tremaine summoned his son to join them. "We must be heading over to the theatre now."

Hector turned to look at Elle before he complied. "I am sure that we will meet again soon."

Elle nodded, and watched the young man follow after the others. After they left the room she knew that she was free to do as she wished. With nothing else to do, she returned to her bedroom. Elle did not feel like wandering around the opera house, she knew that it would not be empty now that it was slowly coming to life, and she did not wish to be around a large group of people. So she resigned to the solitude and tranquility of being alone.

She spent the rest of the day by herself, which she was used to. There were not many people to entertain Elle back in the countryside, so she had learned to enjoy the pleasure of her own company. She knew that there were many ways for one to occupy their mind. She found herself writing in a diary that she had started two years ago. It was a black leather-bound book about half way full, with not so much entries as little notes that she jotted down when a thought occurred to her that was worthy of being remembered.

Dipping her quill in a small bottle of black ink, Elle began writing about her new surroundings. She described the opera house, commented on her parents' odd behavior, and mused over the strange new teacher she had. In her elegant cursive handwriting, Elle went over her first couple days at the opera house and the new acquaintances she had acquired. When all that there was to say was written, she set down her quill and closed the book, carefully placing it in her desk drawer under a pile of novels.

Picking up the book that she still had not finished reading, Elle searched the page for the spot that she left off at. She was almost done the eleventh book of the _Notre-Dame de Paris _by Victor Hugo. The story continued on from when Esmeralda is hanged and Quasimodo watches it happen from within the cathedral.

Time went faster for Elle alone then when she was surrounded by people, and soon it was time to eat again. She joined her father for dinner, and finally saw her mother. Madame D'aubigne appeared pale and sickly, and from time to time would cough into a white handkerchief that she kept on her lap. She barely touched her food and only had two sips of her wine. Elle did not find her mother's behavior odd because her father had said that she was not feeling well, but she had not known to what extent.

The tailor was late, he did not arrive until the family was finished eating their meal. He was received in small parlor room attached to Madame D'aubigne's bedroom. The man was unusually short for a man and he wore a black suit with a small felt cap resting on top of his head. He brought with him a bag which contained samples of fabrics of all different colors, textures, and patterns along with measuring tape and a book to take notes in.

Elle's mother called most of the shots, but occasionally asked Elle's opinion of which color would be more becoming for the event and whether the pattern was too busy. The dress that was to be made for Elle consisted of emerald taffeta overlaid with black lace and tulle, with black lace brocade on the front. The color was chosen because it would match her eyes, and the style of the dress would flatter her frame. Her mother chose a cream colored silk fabric for her own dress, and then went into detail with the tailor about how she wanted it to look.

After she was measured, Elle returned to her room and waited. Part of her was dreading that night's lesson, but another part was anxious for the clock to strike eleven. She had gone over the music by herself several times already, but still felt uncomfortable. There was nothing that she could do except wait for the time to come for her to head out.

When the time did come she carried a lit candle in a golden candleholder with her left hand and the sheet music with her right. Elle tried to be as quiet as possible and succeeded except for a few creaks when she was descending the wooden staircase. She was worried about being discovered wandering around at night, for people were now living in the dormitories, but since she was the owner's daughter she would only have to answer to her father.

She did not run into anyone on the way to the theatre, and it seemed as if the building was dead. Darkness was surrounding her, except the small flame of her candle, and there was an unsettling silence. Elle found the stage well-lit, as it was last time, and she resumed her spot in the center of the stage. She set down the candleholder and remained holding the sheet music.

At first, for about a split second, she wondered if her teacher was going to show even though there was evidence of someone having been there, but then the voice from before boomed out from the direction of the auditorium seating. It did not surprise her that she could not see anyone there. "Start from the beginning."

Elle followed the instructions given to her, and began to sing. The sheet music was not really necessary, for she had already memorized most of the song, but she kept in with her nonetheless. She was not as tense as she was during her first lesson, but there was still some restraint in her voice. The Opera Ghost was a strict instructor, and had her repeat each verse until she sang it properly. This time he did not reveal himself, but stayed at a distance. She was beginning to think that he really was a ghost.

The lesson was a little less than an hour in length, and in a way it seemed to calm her down; the music calmed her down. Elle returned to her room as silently as she had left, and went straight to bed after changing into a white nightgown and brushing her hair. She had had a long day, and the sleep was much deserved. Thoughts of everything, anything, except for music were pushed from her head, and Elle fell asleep humming a tune to herself. She did not think anything of the music coming softly from the walls…

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**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please review!

**Galasriniel-** Thanks for the tip, I didn't notice that but from now on I'll be more careful.

**PopcornShirimp-** Who wouldn't agree? lol


	7. Rehearsal

**Chapter 7**

Several days came and went as happens often to people when they are not paying attention to time. Estelle La Rous was immediately hired, and urged to sign a contract. She did not move in, for she had an apartment that was not very far from the opera house, and she felt too superior to the others to live among them. The rehearsals started, and the directors were visiting daily. Elle's lessons at night continued, but now were taking place in her bedroom. She was not sure where the Opera Ghost's voice was coming from and each day she became more certain that he could not possibly be a man.

On this particular day Elle was spending some time with her new best friend Nadia before rehearsals began. There were in the girls' dormitories, Elle was sitting on top of an old wooden table with her feet resting on the matching chair. She was watching Nadia change into her ballet shoes and then she helped her tie up her silky black hair in a tight bun.

"It's a shame you don't dance," her friend said to her as she looked at herself in the mirror. She adjusted her outfit and then turned around to face the other girl. "We could have had some fun dancing together."

"If I danced, then who would help you get ready for the rehearsals?" Elle asked, with a lighthearted smile on her face. It did not really bother her that she only watched the rehearsals from afar; it looked like the girls were worked pretty hard to prepare for the performance. "Anyway, I like watching it all."

"As you wish," Nadia replied and helped Elle get down from the table that she was sitting on without tripping on her skirts. She looked at Elle with a friendly beam glowing on her pale skin. "You know Estelle may be the star of this new opera house, but you are definitely the goddess of _L'Opera Magnifique_."

"You are just biased in my favor."

"So, what is wrong with that?" she asked with a laugh. Then she noticed the time. "We better get moving before Madame Giry comes in here and reprimands me."

The two girls quickly made their way to the backstage of the theatre and joined the other dancers. Nadia commenced doing her warm-up stretches while Elle looked around. Estelle was standing over on the other side and was singing her scales. Madame Giry was standing with the chorus girls and telling them something, but Elle could not hear with the chaos of every preparing for the rehearsal.

People were heading out onto the stage, and the girls followed them out. Nadia turned to Elle after looking at the lead soprano with mild dislike. "I heard from one of the other girls that Estelle's hair is not naturally that color."

"That does not surprise me," Elle responded, but then everyone on the stage turned their attention to the door. The two directors, Mister Bolster and Tremaine, entered the room shortly followed by Hector. The cast grew quiet and the three men began talking to Madame Giry, who had been the one to teach the dances. Occasionally Hector would look up from the conversation, and once he gave Elle a smile.

"Who is that?" Nadia asked, glancing over at Hector. "He is quite handsome, if I may say so myself. And look at the way that he smiled at you, Elle! He must fancy you. Is there something going on that you did not tell me about?"

"He is Monsieur Tremaine's son. I first met him my second day here," Elle answered calmly. "We are friends, nothing more. I do not know to what you are referring."

"We shall see," her friend responded jovially. Another man entered from the direction in which the directors had come. "You should go join your father. I will see you after rehearsal."

Elle joined her father, the directors, and Hector. The rehearsal was underway shortly, and the first scene began. Soon it was time for Estelle's solo, and everyone cleared the way for her. She was about Elle's height, but an inch or so taller, and had a small frame. Her red hair was piled up on top of her hair, with curls coming down on the sides. She opened her bright red lips to sing.

**_"_**_When will I love you? Good lord, I don't know,_

_Maybe never, maybe tomorrow._

_But not today, that's certain._

_Love is a rebellious bird_

_That nothing can tame,_

_And it is simply in vain to call it_

_If it is convenient for it to refuse._

_Nothing will work, threat or pleading,_

_One speaks, the other stays quiet;_

_And it's the other that I prefer_

_He said nothing; but he pleases me._

_Love! Love! Love! Love!"_

Her voice was high-pitched and could reach notes that seemed almost impossible for a human to reach. She seemed proud of herself, and continued the song with a contented look on her face. Estelle's singing was obviously directed towards the directors, and Elle noticed that her eyes often were on Hector, who was looking at the singer as well. Elle was not sure why this bothered her. Was it jealousy? No, there was no reason for her to be jealous of Estelle.

_"Love is the child of the Bohemian,_

_It has never, never known any law,_

_If you don't love me, I love you,_

_If I love you, keep guard on yourself!_

_If you don't love me, if you don't love me, I love you!_

_But, if I love you, if I love you, keep guard on yourself!_

_If you don't love me, if you don't love me, I love you!_

_But, if I love you, if I love you, keep guard on yourself!"_

Elle left the rehearsal early. For some reason she was not in the mood to stick around and watch the performers go over their lines, so she wandered off into the opera house. After a short walk around the building she returned to her room and decided to play some music on her piano. She sat on the bench, laid out the sheet music, and began to play.

She did not feel hungry that afternoon, so she skipped lunch and went directly to see Nadia. Her friend was finished changing by the time she found her and she was having something to eat. When she was done they made their way up to the roof again, their favorite spot for seclusion, for some fresh air and to talk.

"It is a pity that you left the rehearsal so early," Nadia mused. "It was quite interesting."

"What happened?" Elle asked, wondering what her friend was hinting at.

"Well first the lead opposite Estelle, Maximilien, was singing a duet with Isabel and then all of a sudden the hair on top of his head somehow got attached to one of the ropes and it was pulled up, revealing a shiny bald head. All the chorus girls were giggling and could not contain themselves. Madame Giry had to scold them to get them to be quiet. None of us knew that he was bald, and from the looks of it neither did Estelle."

"And how did Maximilien respond to this?"

"He stormed off the stage and declared that whoever was working the ropes above the stage must be fired immediately. They did not want him to quit, so they sent someone to find out who it was, and no one was there. It was odd."

"That is interesting," Elle commented, wondering if the incident was actually an accident or someone's idea of a prank. "It must have been one of the scene-shifters playing a joke on him."

"Yes, that is what we thought. Mister Bolster took Maximilien to the side and talked to him, and then rehearsal continued like nothing ever happened. Afterwards everyone went off to get something to eat and rest, but Estelle stayed behind with the directors. It seems that she wanted some sort of private rehearsal."

For some reason Elle did not find that surprising in the least. Estelle seemed like she wanted all of the attention focused on her. Elle could not deny that Estelle was beautiful and had a voice that carried, but it was obvious that the woman was raised to be supercilious. "I can image that."

"So, what have you been up to?" Nadia asked, turning her head to the left to look at her friend. Her eyes squinted at the sun that was beating down on them.

"Playing my piano," Elle answered with a small sigh. She left the ledge and began to walk back to the door. "It is quite hot up here. We should be getting back anyway. Aren't you learning a new dance today?"

"That is right," she replied, following after Elle. They left the roof, descending several different sets of stairs. All the dancers were in the ballet foyer, everyone else was either in the dormitories or out somewhere to make the most of their break. Nadia joined Meg, who was watching over the younger girls, and Elle went off by herself.

She hummed a tune to herself as she walked up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Taking the key out of a small pocket on her dress, she unlocked the door and let herself in. Elle closed the door behind her, put the key back in its spot, and wandered over to sit on her sofa. She was still humming the melody, and then she began singing, coming up with the words as she went along.

"_Everything around me is changing, changing_

_I can barely catch my breath_

_Farewell my old life_

_A new day has come_

_I'll welcome it with open arms_

_Softly, softly _

_And I'll sing for myself_

_Because no one's around _

_The music will guide me_

_Comfort and soothe me_

_Like none other can_

_Or will_

_What is the truth behind my fear?_

_Scared of my own voice, so foolish_

_Yet someone has faith in me_

_That I don't even have_

_My instructor of music_

_Who lives in the shadows…_

_Why is he afraid of light?_

_These things I'll never know_

_I've heard him sing before_

_Enough to float him to Heaven_

_His voice, so rich and deep_

_Like the secrets that he keeps"_

Elle had thought that she was alone, and so she was surprised when she heard a response to her words. It was the voice of her very own instructor of music. He answered her in song, which seemed to come from the walls themselves.

"_Girl, are you so sure that you want to know?_

_These secrets are kept hidden_

_For more than one reason_

_Do you think you are ready for the truth?_

_No one is"_

She was caught by surprise, and so she replied to him in the same fashion in which he had answered her.

_"Teacher! Forgive me_

_I was only in wonder_

_I could never hope to know_

_The truth"_

Elle quietly awaited his reply. She had only ever heard me on the nights of their lessons, and so hearing him now was odd. It was undeniable that she wondered about him, who wouldn't, but she would not break her promise. She would not risk the possibility of him going away and never coming back in order to find out his secrets.

_"Curious child_

_You will know the truth in time_

_And then you will wish _

_That you hadn't wondered"_

There was a knock on the door. Elle jumped up from the sofa, turning her face to the direction the noise came from, and her teacher's voice went away. It was her father's gruff voice that came from outside. "Elle, who is in there?"

"Only me, papa," she answered, opening the door.

"I heard voices," he said, looking behind her and finding that she was telling the truth. The room was empty except for her. His eyes moved from the room to his daughter and he brought her out into the hall with him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him, noticing the miserable look on his face. She quickly became concerned and the first thing that she thought of was her mother. "Is something wrong with mama?"

"Your mother is sick," her father reluctantly answered, ushering her down the hall and away from the door. "She has been for a while. Now she is sleeping and I don't want to wake her. Can you please be a good girl and go ask Madame Giry to send for the physician?"

Elle nodded sadly, silently hoping that whatever was wrong with her mother would be something that a doctor could fix. She hurried off to find Madame Giry, wherever she was, and entreat her to call for the doctor. The woman was found in the dormitories, and when Elle gave her father's message to her she set off straight away, leaving Elle alone. She went back upstairs, holding on to the railing, and knocked on her father's door. "He should be here soon."

That night Elle prayed with more fervor than she had ever done before. She prayed for her mother, for her father, and even for the opera house itself. She even prayed that God would hear her prayers, and help her small family. After praying she laid in bed for a long while, staring at the dark ceiling. Only her dreams could take away the ominous feeling that she had.

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**A/N:** The song that Estelle sings is from the opera Carmen by George Bizet. Everything else is by me. Thank you readers for the reviews. Please review! 

**Anri-** Thank you, I'm happy you like the story.

**Galasriniel-** lol, I know that feeling. Thanks.

**supaluna-** Thank you.


	8. Opening Night

**Chapter 8**

Soon it was time for the opening night of _L'Opera Magnifique_. The opera house was chaotic, as everyone ran around making last minute preparations. Elle's father spent most of the morning in his office with the directors, and her mother was getting ready. She seemed to be making a miraculous recovery, and the doctor declared that she was well enough to attend the important event. Madame D'aubigne said that she would not miss it for the world.

The building never looked better, and many people were hired to make sure that everything was carefully set in its proper place. The red velvet seating, gold décor, painted ceilings, the famous chandelier… all added together to create the look of magnificence, just as the new name for the opera house claimed.

Everyone who worked there was dressed in their best, even the ones who were least likely to be spotted by paying customers. The precautions were taken just in case they were seen, because the owner wanted to give the place a feeling of elegance and luxury, which would most definitely please the number of wealthy citizens who were likely to attend. Also, the mayor had sent someone over to buy tickets for him, so everything had to be perfect.

Elle was helped getting dressed by her mother, who stood behind her pulling the strings in the back of her corset until it was tight enough to tie. The young woman groaned, holding onto her bed post as her mother pulled harder. This was always the worst part of getting dressed in the expensive attire that was the popular fashion of high society.

"Are you excited, dear?" her mother asked, finally tying the strings together and letting her daughter stand up straight. She picked up the lavish dress of the bed that was close by with her hands and helped Elle step into it. Then she pulled it up, waited for Elle to stick her arms through, and began to fasten the back. "You have not actually attended an opera since you were younger."

"I am a bit excited," Elle answered, glad that the hard part was over. She looked at herself in the mirror, fully dressed, and felt like a princess of some sort. The gown complimented her, and she was pleased with how it turned out. "I witnessed part of the rehearsals and the performers are wonderful. I am sure that everyone will enjoy the performance."

"I never doubted for a second," the older woman responded, appearing in the mirror behind her daughter. Their faces showed some similarity in the cheeks and lips, but Elle's eyes were all her own. "Come here, let me fix your hair."

Elle's hair was put half up and half down. The half that was up was held in place by an ivory comb, with emeralds encrusted on it. The rest flowed down, and came to rest on the silky white shoulders of the young woman. The top of the dress was designed with a portrait collar, revealing her neck and shoulders. Placed around her neck was a black ribbon, which Madame D'aubigne tied into a small bow. The piece contrasted with the paleness of her skin, making her appear quite balanced.

When she was fully dressed and ready, with a dash of lipstick and eye shadow that her mother insisted on applying, Elle set off to the back of the theatre. She wanted to see her friend before the show, and she still had some time before she would have to return to her parents. She slipped in, almost unnoticed due to the commotion of people getting ready, and scanned the area. When she found Nadia, she saw that the girl was already dressed in her costume and had her ballet slippers on.

"Oh my!" Nadia exclaimed when she saw her best friend. She had seen her dressed up before, but never so ornately. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you," Elle replied modestly, not really caring about her own appearance. She was more anxious for her friend, who would be on stage shortly dancing in front of hundreds of strangers. Just thinking about it made Elle feel uneasy. "But how are you? Are you nervous?"

The girl laughed. "Not at all. I have been dancing since I was a little girl, these people can't intimidate me."

Elle smiled. "Then you are braver than I am."

The younger chorus girls did not seem as sure of themselves as Nadia did. They fluttered around in their little outfits with nerves, requiring Madame Giry to calm them down. She spoke some words to them in a low tone and they seemed more relaxed, but they still had tension in their shiny eyes.

They were not the only ones with anxiety though, some of the other singers were fidgety, especially Isabel. She was to be playing the part of Micaëla, and it was her first role that had a duet with a major character. Maximilien, the man who she was to have the duet with, was trying to reassure her that she was going to be fine. "I have confidence in you."

"This is why amateurs should not be given speaking roles," Estelle rudely commented, passing by the two. She was followed by a group of people who Elle did not recognize, and walked with an air of authority. When she said that Isabel looked up at her, and then back at Maximilien, now with even more uncertainty in her eyes.

"Speak for yourself, Estelle," Maximilien shouted out at her, as she moved over to the other side of the room.

"Have you ever met anyone more arrogant?" Nadia asked in disgust, after both of the girls witnessed the interaction. Elle did not get a chance to answer because the minute she turned her gaze away from her friend she noticed that Estelle was headed their way.

She strode up to Elle, completely ignoring Nadia who happened to be standing right next to her, and gave her a fake large smile. She was close enough for Elle to smell the strong perfume that she wore, and she almost gagged. "I hope you enjoy the performance. The entire place got sold out, but I am sure that you already heard about that. Send Monsieur D'aubigne my regards."

Elle stood there, not sure how to respond to this false show of friendliness. She supposed that the prima donna only talked to her because she was the owner's daughter, and even though she had noticed the woman's disrespect for others, she had to act friendly in return. "I most definitely will."

Soon it was time for Elle to leave her friend and return. She said good luck and then headed off, thinking about how overly confident Estelle was compared to the meek Isabel. If Elle were in their shoes she would be more like Isabel, although she knew that Isabel could handle her own. She was good enough to have been the lead, but the directors chose Estelle due to her wealth and popularity. The world just was not fair.

She returned to her parents, who were both looking splendid. When the time came they walked to the main foyer together, where throngs of people were collecting. The directors were on the staircase, waiting for them, and they all stood there and watched as more and more people filed in from the outside. Soon the large foyer was full, and the chattering quieted down. Faces turned towards the people in charge, and at that moment the major entered.

"Welcome everyone," Elle's father stated loudly, with his wife on his arm, in a convivial tone and a large smile spread on his face. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the mayor. "Monsieur Maire, welcome to the grand opening of _L'Opera Magnifique_."

There were some introductions, and then people were free to mingle before the performance. Elle was introduced to the mayor, and some other important people, before she was free to leave the side of her parents. Hector was there, of course, and he made sure to say hello to her. They stood, politely talking for a bit, until people began to file up the stairs and into the theatre.

They parted at the doors. "Your box is right next to mine," he stated, before walking away. "I will see you after the show."

She nodded, and then waited for her parents to join her. They did, after talking to many different people, and all three of them proceeded to their box. Music was playing, waiting for everyone to get into their seats. Considering how many seats were there, this took quite a long time. Elle watched people from above in her box as they moved around and gossiped to one another. She could not hear individual conversations, but she knew that they were talking.

Finally, after every last person was seated, the curtain rose. The scene opened on a square in Seville, a Spanish town, where soldiers and a corporal are watching the passers-by. Elle watched intently although she had seen this part practiced before. Isabel came on stage, and she seemed like she was more self-assured then Elle had seen her earlier. Maximilien must have calmed her down.

"What are you searching for, lovely one?" the corporal asked her.

"Me, I am searching for a corporal," Isabel responded in her feminine and innocent voice.

"I am here! Right here!" the man replied.

Towards the middle of the second act Elle thought of something. She remembered that the Opera Ghost was supposedly going to be in box five. He had, after all, left her father a letter explicitly demanding that box to be left open at all performances. Something inside her ached for her to go and investigate. She looked around, assessing her situation. Both of her parents were sitting quietly, immersed in the show. They would not mind of she left for a minute.

She gently tapped her father's arm, he happened to be sitting to her left. Leaning closer to him and speaking in almost a half whisper she asked, "Do you mind if I go out for a minute? I need a drink of water."

Without looking at her he nodded, and she stood up. Before she left the box she glanced over at the box to the right of theirs. Hector was sitting there, with his father, and his eyes seemed to be fixed on the stage. On closer inspection, they seemed to be on Estelle. Elle shrugged, and then left the box. She walked down the hall, and around to where box five was.

She lightly rapped on the outside of the box and, with no reply, entered. Not sure what she had expected, she was disappointed with her findings. The box was completely empty. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she was certain that he was to be there. She entered the box, closed the door behind her, and looked around.

The box was exactly the same on the inside as the one she had been watching the performance in was, except it only had one chair instead of three. She glided in a little further, and felt a chill. Wrapping her black lace shawl around her bare arms, Elle moved over to the chair. The seat had an indent in the middle, like someone had been sitting there recently. She touched the soft velvet cushion, and felt the warmth that still lingered.

Someone must have been there, but where had they gone? She turned around, slightly dissatisfied with her search. Nothing had been discovered, except that someone had sat in the chair, but that could have been anyone. Elle walked back the way she came and, with a short sigh, she opened the door in order to return to her box.

When she looked up, she was immediately startled. Standing only few inches before her was Madame Giry. The woman was wearing a dark burgundy gown, with her grayish brown hair pinned up on her head as usual. She was holding an envelope in her hands, and the moment she saw Elle her eyes widened. "What are you doing here, Mademoiselle?"

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, thank you for the reviews. Please review! 

**Galasriniel-** That she is. I can't give away any plot points, but more will be revealed later. Thank you so much for the review, I'm glad you like my story.

**Anri-** Thank you, I try to keep myself grammatically correct and use spell check, but sometimes I mess up things without noticing it. It bothers me too when people do that, so I know what you mean.


	9. A Triumph

**Chapter 9**

"I- I was just-" Elle stuttered, not sure what to say. She, of course, had no real reason for being there. The older woman facing her had a stern expression on her face, unflinching, and although Elle knew that she could not get in trouble, she still did not want to get on her bad side. She had to think of an excuse, quickly, but she was too startled to be able to think on her feet. Her hands nervously fiddled with the outer layer of her skirt. "I was just leaving."

Madame Giry's eyes were narrow, piercing into Elle's, and she did not move from her spot in the doorway, only inches away from where Elle was standing stiff as a board. Her tight lips were drawn in a frown of concern and authority. "You should stop wandering about where you do not belong. Do your parents know where you are?"

Elle did not answer. Her eyes wandered from the woman's face down to her hands, which were clenching onto an envelope. She noticed where Elle was looking, and immediately drew her shawl over to conceal what she was holding, but she was too late. The girl had already begun piecing things together like how a child assesses and tries to fit together the oblong shapes of the pieces of a difficult puzzle. It had to be the Opera Ghost's pay, why else would Madame Giry be visiting box five, which Elle overheard belonged to him? "I know about the Opera Ghost, Madame. I overheard some people talking."

The woman moved to the side and pulled Elle forward, away from the door. She whispered harshly in her ear. "That is exactly why you should not be here. Now go, return to your parents, and stop snooping around!"

Elle did what she was told, but before the box was completely out of sight she turned around and watched Madame Giry enter the box. When she left, only seconds later, her hands were empty. The envelope was gone. Elle went back to her parents' box and returned to her seat. Her eyes were watching the opera, and her ears listening, but her mind was wondering about what had just occurred. Why did Madame Giry seem almost afraid of the Opera Ghost? What was she scared of?

When the scene ended, the clapping brought Elle out of her contemplations, her silent reverie, and she slapped her hands together in unison with the other spectators. For the rest of the opera she watched with a returned interest, and was even more excited when she saw Nadia dancing on stage. The girl showed no signs of insecurity, and every step, every move was perfect. She was the picture of grace, always in line with the music, like she was born dancing straight from the womb. The routine was astounding and drew the audience away from their whispers into a muted captivation.

Considering a large number of the audience were fans or friends of Estelle La Rous, there was quite a warm response to the other performers. Elle noticed that almost everyone was contented with the show, except for some old men who fell asleep some time into it. She did not find that Estelle's performance was the best out of all of them; she was overly sure of herself and lacked the emotion in her singing which would have put it over the top. Even someone without a master's understanding of the act of singing, such as Elle, could notice this in the woman's voice.

No one else seemed to notice though, or at least they did not vocalize their observation. Instead there were waves of applause, and calls of approval. The curtain fell, the orchestra continued playing the finale, and after several minutes the curtain rose again. On the stage stood rows of the performers, with Estelle in the middle, who held hands and bowed twice for the audience before heading off the stage. Estelle was the only one who did not actually stand in a row. She stood by herself in front of them all, with a large red smile stretched over her face.

People continued clapping until the stage was clear and the curtain fell again. The background music continued as they began slowly filing out of the large theatre. Some people took their time, chatting with their neighbors about the opera and the talent that they had witnessed. Others waited for the people around them to move so they could get out. That was the good thing about people having seats in a box, that way there are not many seats surrounding them so they can get out whenever they want.

"What did you think of the show?" Elle's father asked her mother as she fanned herself and looked about at the crowd below. Elle sat by them quietly and tolerantly, waiting for them to rise as a sign of it being time to go. Meanwhile the theatre was full of noise, due to the various people moving around and talking loudly. There was a knock on their box, and due to the clamor it was not heard the first couple of times. The third time it was louder, and all three of the D'aubigne's turned to see who it was calling on them.

The door opened, and standing in the threshold were Mister Tremaine, his son, and Mister Bolster. They all seemed overjoyed, with nothing about them but the expressions of the utmost happiness. Mister Bolster's plump face was in its usual grin, accompanied by two rosy cheeks. Mister Tremaine, who was generally the more serious one, was also in good spirits. "I say, this was quite the success," Mister Bolster proclaimed heartily. "Better than one could have hoped."

"Indeed, we must celebrate our triumph," Mister Tremaine added, speaking to Monsieur D'aubigne. Then he glanced at the two women on each side of him, acknowledging their presence. He politely nodded to each of them, taking off his top hat. The other men followed him in suit, doing the same. "It is a pleasure to see you Madame, Mademoiselle."

"I'm sure," Madame D'aubigne replied graciously with a white smile. She slightly turned in her chair to face them, with her right arm resting on her husband's left one. "If you wish to celebrate with my husband, then you may have him. Please excuse me gentlemen, but I must retire early tonight. Enjoy yourselves."

"Well thank you, Madame," Bolster responded, offering his hand to help her out of her red velvet chair. She accepted his hand, was pulled up, and then her husband stood up beside her. Mademoiselle D'aubigne got up from her comfortable seat as well, and everyone stood around glancing at each other. Elle held her hands together and listened. "It is a shame that you cannot join us, but you must do what you must. I understand entirely."

Hector stirred behind the directors, and moved closer to where Elle was standing. He caught her eyes as they glanced around, and gave her a warm smile. She nodded back, courteously, and turned her gaze back over to her parents and _les directeurs_. Thinking back, she remembered his blue eyes fixed excitedly on Estelle, and now he was giving her a similar look, yet different in a way. She did not know what to think.

"Goodnight Monsieurs," her mother stated, and the men cleared a path for her. She kissed her husband on his left cheek, and gracefully moved over to the door. When she reached the hall she turned her head and waited for her daughter. "Come Elle, we must go."

Elle curtsied for the men before following her mother's orders and moving by to follow her mother out. On her way she passed by Hector. "It was a brilliant show tonight, was it not?" he asked her before she was out of earshot.

"Yes, it was. Bonsoir Monsieur," she answered, and continued out of the room. She walked arm in arm with her mother, through the crowds of people and up the stairs to their home. Her mother came with her to her room, and they entered together. Madame D'aubigne closed the door behind them, and they were finally in silence. They were able to appreciate the quiet after being in a large room full of babbling high society.

"It was a lovely night," her mother finally spoke, untying the black ribbon that lay around Elle's neck. She set it atop the marble vanity that was close by, and then continued helping unbutton the back of Elle's gown. Elle stood patiently, and with proper posture, as her mother finished unfastening the dress and pulled it down revealing her corset and slips. "Everything went well and not one complaint. Everyone looked so divine."

"Very lovely," Elle replied, and watched at her mother hung the elegant dress up in her wardrobe. Then she stayed still so that the woman could untie the back of her corset for her, and when it was at last done she let out a deep breath. The corset had been rather tight, and she was glad to finally have it off of her. Elle took a seat at her vanity on the cushioned stool that sat before it. She pulled the ivory comb out of her hair, and then laid it down on the marble. Picking up the silver brush next to it, she began to comb her hair.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," her mother said pleasantly, kissing her daughter tenderly on the forehead before leaving the room swiftly yet with poise and closing the door gently behind her. Elle could hear her glide down the hall, the swoosh of her many skirts moving together, and the sound of her entering her own bedroom, and then there was silence. Candles around lit up Elle's room, and she looked at herself in the mirror by the dim light.

After getting up from the vanity, she slipped on a nightgown and slid into her bed, pulling the layers of blankets over her body. It seemed curiously chilly that night, the warm weather was soon to give way to the harsh and bitterness of a long winter. Anyone could feel the change coming in the air, and it made Elle shiver under her covers. She turned onto her right side, her emerald eyes staring at the flame of a candle as it danced with the soft breeze that passed over it.

Elle had not received another visit from her instructor of music since the night that her father asked her to send for the doctor. She secretly wondered if he would ever speak to her again, for that was all he did, speak and sing. The uncertainty of not knowing if she would ever hear from him again bothered her, for she had begun to look forward to their lessons. At each one she would absorb every remark that he made to her, and made sure to follow his instructions precisely. He took music very seriously, and so did she.

She could not help but wonder what he was doing, and if he had left the opera house after collecting his pay. It was possible, she did not know much about him, and therefore he could have gathered what he wanted and made way. Hoping that was not true, she pushed those evil thoughts from her mind and instead focused on the positive. At least now she had the ability to sing better than before, even though she was still not good enough to be anything special.

As she closed her eyes, she remembered the last words that he said to her in a velvety melodic voice before they were interrupted by her father. She could still hear his voice in her ears, since it was still fresh in her mind, replying to her answer.

_"Curious child_

_You will know the truth in time_

_And then you will wish _

_That you hadn't wondered"_

What did that mean exactly? What sort of secrets was he hiding, which she would not want to know? The situation puzzled her; he puzzled her, he was the enigma waiting to be solved. She believed his beautiful words, and lay in her bed, wishing to hear the sound of his voice once more. It was smooth, almost hypnotic, and addictive.

Then a thought occurred to her. Perhaps he knew that she had visited his box, yet that still did not explain his absence in the past several weeks. He had to still be there, and she hoped that he would come to her soon. All she could do was wait for him to appear again, if he so wished to, and until then practice daily by herself. It helped that Elle knew how to play the piano well, so that she could play the music for to sing to.

These were her thoughts as she blew out her last candle and settled in for sleep. For a long while she laid there until she finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber. When she awoke, she felt refreshed and strangely energized, not remembering anything that she had dreamt. The curtains were drawn closed, but she pulled them open and looked out at the bright morning sky.

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**A/N:** Thank you to my readers and reviewers. Please review! 

**Anne-** Thank you

**Galasriniel-** LOL!

**Anri-** I usually don't update so often although I would like to, but lately I've been sick and really had nothing better to do.


	10. Prima Donna

**Chapter 10**

There was a cloudy blue haze over the morning sky, making the day seem almost surreal and dreamlike. The mist of early morning lingered over the city below, and not a soul was in sight. In a tree nearby her window sat one vivid red cardinal, chirping its song for the world to hear. Elle smiled, stretching her arms and enjoying the simple entertainment of Mother Nature. The sun blazed in the sky, creating a pink horizon that mingled with the blue of the sky. White fluffy clouds passed by, covering the golden sun for a few minutes. It was a captivating sunset, and almost made Elle want to paint its beauty, although she was no painter.

Her light pink lips opened to a yawn, and Elle's hand rose up to cover her mouth. The skin of her eyelids fluttered, opening again to reveal her remarkably dark green eyes. The wings of the cardinal shuddered, and then tweeting the last notes to its song, flew off from the thin tree into the sky. Elle felt sorry to lose her songbird, but she eventually turned her pretty face from the window and wandered over to her wardrobe in order to pick out her outfit for that day. She settled upon a light blue dress that had sleeves which came down a little below her elbow. After dressing she pulled some of her wavy hair back and pinned it there to keep her locks out of her face.

Breakfast was light, some fruit and porridge, and her father was to head off to a meeting in the theatre. Elle decided to join him, while her mother would stay behind and catch up on some reading. Holding her father's solid arm, Elle walked by his side to the theatre. They were not the first ones there by any means; a number of the performers had already arrived. People were scattered all about the grand room, many immersed in separate conversations. Monsieur D'aubigne surveyed the room as they entered through the heavy door; the directors were not there yet.

Elle glanced Nadia standing with a group of the chorus girls, including Meg. She smiled a hello at her friend, and took a seat next to her father. Madame Giry made her way through a small crowd of stagehands and settled down near them. Everyone seemed to be waiting anxiously on the directors, who had called this meeting to order. They were not the only ones missing either; Elle noticed that the dominating Estelle was not present either.

Then, with one disturbing bang, the doors of the theatre slammed open. Everyone looked up from what they were doing or who they were talking to in order to see what caused such an immense racket. In strutted directors, laughing with enthusiasm and parading down the carpeted aisle in unison. Mister Tremaine held something under his left arm, and had his other hand in the pocket of his gray jacket. His metal spectacles sat on his thin bony nose; his usual gravity was swept away with elation. Mister Bolster's bald head shined under the light of the chandelier. They seemed about as excited as they had the previous night after the curtain fell.

They bound up to the stage and, ascending the set of stairs, stood up on it, silently demanding the attention of everyone present in the room. After a few minutes of standing there all eyes were on them, wondering what the directors had to say. Mister Tremaine held up what he had been holding under his arm, and waved it around so that all could see. It was a newspaper, that morning's newspaper to be exact. When he was satisfied he dropped his arm and opened the paper, turning it to a specific page.

"Great job last night everyone," Mister Bolster shouted out, praising them as the other director fumbled to find the spot that he wanted. The crinkle of the paper echoed throughout the auditorium as everyone patiently waited. Bolster ran a fleshy hand over his gleaming head, and then his arm rested at his side. Turning to look at his partner, he saw that he was ready to speak, and so he added some last words. "Tremaine will read you the review in this morning's paper."

Mister Tremaine cleared his throat unceremoniously, and held the paper up in the light in order to read it. With his right hand he adjusted his glasses so that he could read properly, his eyes focused on what he was holding. Many present were interested in hearing it, but Elle already knew that it had to be something good. Otherwise the directors would not want to speak of it. Tremaine's British voice boomed through the theatre as he read the review.

"Last night's opening of _L'Opera Magnifique_, which used to be _L'Opera Populaire_ before it burnt down in the terrible tragedy, was nothing short of astounding. The excellent cast performed _Carmen_, an entrancing and heart-breaking tale of a woman who is eventually killed by her lover. Estelle La Rous had the lead role as Carmen, and her fantastic singing was worthy of being compared to that of the famous singer Carlotta, or even the famed Christine Daae, both of which at one time sang on that very stage. The opera house had never looked better…"

He was interrupted as the door of the theatre once again was thrown open. Looking up from the paper, he waited to see who it was who had the audacity to disrupt him. None other than Estelle La Rous came storming into the room, clenching something in her white fist. Her fire red curls hung at the sides of her face, making her look even angrier than she already was. Her normally rosy complexion was replaced by a bright red one, which was quite unladylike. The heels of her fancy shoes stomped on the carpet as she made her way down to the stage.

The crimson lips of her enraged face parted and the same voice that was praised by the papers let out a deafening shriek. She violently waved a white piece of parchment that was crumbled up under her fist, and blatantly ignored everyone else in the room as she yelled at the directors without any sense of propriety. "What is the meaning of this?"

"What is wrong, Mademoiselle?" Mister Tremaine asked, still in a pleasant mood. He did not seem upset at her, but even more delighted with the fact that their prima donna had arrived. When he calculated the extent of the infuriated expression on her brow he became confused. "Have you not seen the paper? There are rave reviews about your performance!"

"This!" she screamed, flashing them the paper in her hands and throwing it on the boards of the stage. Then she wildly looked around at everyone in the room, sneering at them like they were all the culprit. No one seemed to know what she was talking about. She was acting like a madwoman, and her cherry colored curls lashed about as she thrashed her head around. "Which one of you despicable wretches sent me this? Who is O.G.?"

People began whispering to each other, about the new found insanity of the lead soprano and the mysterious initials she mentioned. Monsieur D'aubigne left his daughter's side and moved closer to Madame Giry. He murmured to her, so that the others would not hear him, yet it was unnecessary. Everyone's attention was focused on the prima donna and no one bothered to glance over at the owner as he spoke to the woman in an undertone. "I thought you said he wouldn't do anything if I paid him? And now look, he is causing a frenzy!"

"I am sure that he did not mean any harm Monsieur," Madame Giry whispered in reply, a serious expression taking over her weathered face. Her hands sat properly on her lap, her ankles crossed, as she watched the scene with wide eyes. She seemed to know much more than anyone else in the building about what was happening, and who this mysterious person was, yet she stayed quiet. Her eyes seemed to speak, _not again_…

Elle sat straight, a blank expression on her pale face. Inside she was amused at Estelle's outburst, and only wished that her fans could see her for who she truly was. Her eyes curiously eyed the crumpled up piece of paper that the woman threw on the ground, and she noticed the same red seal on it that she had on her letter from the Opera Ghost. Yes, he had written her, and it must not have been an agreeable note, for it had angered Estelle. She made a note in her mind to get the paper after the room cleared, and then she continued observing.

For a second she thought she heard something, something other than the loud and obnoxious squeals of Estelle and the gossiping whispers of the others. It faintly sounded like someone was… laughing, a soft laughter that only she seemed to notice. Her eyes searched for the mouth that it emanated from, but she was unsuccessful. No one around her was laughing, and the sound had appeared to come from above. Yet she could find nothing, and so all she could do was resign that she was hearing things. A silly though came to her mind, what if it was the ghost himself, watching on with amusement?

The directors somehow managed to calm Estelle down by reassuring her that she was wonderful. No longer angry, she left the theatre with her head high and entered the carriage that was waiting for her outside of the opera house, but before she did she managed to give Elle a look of scorn. At her return to ease the directors were relieved, and then left the newspaper that Mister Tremaine had been reading on the stage for others to look at if it so pleased them. They got off the stage and sauntered down the aisle, slightly less cheery then they were before. The two men were joined by Elle's father, and the three of them headed off to the office.

People were now free to leave, and so they slowly began going on their way. Elle sat by herself, waiting. They were still speaking in low voices to each other, all excitedly stuck on the topic of what had just occurred. Each gossiper seemed to have their own reasons for Estelle's strange behavior, but most omitted the contribution of O.G. Soon the room was empty of almost everyone except for Elle and a small group of girls. Among them was Nadia, who was waiting behind for her friend to join her. The girls began to leave, but she turned and looked at Elle.

Sensing that it was her moment of opportunity, Elle had gotten up from her seat and slowly walked over to the stage. She reached out and picked up the paper with her left hand, bringing it closer to her. Unaware of anyone watching her, she smoothed out the parchment in order to read it. The note contained a few lines that were written in red ink and a familiar handwriting. It looked like it was produced by dipping the ends of matches into the ink, and then stroked upon the paper. The letter that had enraged the redhead read as follows:

_Mademoiselle La Rous,_

_Your performance last night was, to put it bluntly, lacking. Perhaps you should consider marriage rather than the opera, at least then you could make room for the real talent. _

_- O.G._

Elle had to cover her mouth in order to stifle her laughter. She was glad that at least someone could tell Estelle the truth, for everyone else spent their time sucking up to her. The woman needed to be put in her place, and he had done that through the letter. Although, she was not sure what he was trying to accomplish by enraging her like that. Nothing had really happened except for a scene that would be talked about by the opera rats for days. Perhaps it was simply for his own enjoyment, but it had entertained her as well. She felt better knowing that he was still around… somewhere. Her eyes looked up from the paper to the darkness of the boxes, and she felt another presence other than the girls that were awaiting her.

"Elle, what are you doing?" Nadia asked, pulling the young woman's attention to her and away from her thoughts. She stood on her toes, twirling a piece of her jet black hair between her thin fingers. "Aren't you going to come with us?"

She turned her gaze to her friend, gave her a sharp nod, and placed the letter back where she had found it. There was no sense it taking it with her. Besides, it did not belong to her and she would feel odd keeping it. The newspaper was nearby, carelessly abandoned. Looking back up in the shadows for a brief moment, Elle hoped to see something, but nothing was there except darkness. She then joined her friend, and left the theatre behind without taking another look.

No one noticed a shape move from the shadows behind them, but someone else had indeed been there. He was watching, always watching, and this time at least gotten a laugh out of it. Moving over to the stage, his eyes fell on the letter that he had written Estelle. She had deserved every word of it, yet that was not enough. A black glove picked up the ball of paper and held it over a lit candle, setting the parchment on fire. He let it burn to ashes before he set off into the opera house, his opera house, returning to the labyrinths in which he felt at home.

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**A/N:** Same as always, thanks for taking the time to read and review. I actually wrote this yesterday, but got distracted and ended up posting it today. Hope you enjoyed it!

**Anri-** Thank you, actually I am starting to feel better.

**Galasriniel-** :-)

**dilliedallie27-** Yay, a new reader. Thanks, glad you like.


	11. Observations and Conversations

**Chapter 11**

"Estelle is jealous of you, you know," Nadia stated as her and Elle walked to the dormitories together behind the other girls after leaving the theatre. Her long hair was down and loose that day, and so when she walked it bounced with each step. With her right hand she pulled some hair out of her face and they neared their destination. The prima donna was the only current topic of discussion, which was understandable after that episode, and it was probably going to be for some time until something else happens to catch the interest of the gossipers.

"What do you mean?" Elle asked in response raising her eyebrow, caught by surprise at Nadia's remark. As far as she was concerned, the lead soprano had no sane or logical reason for being jealous of her. If anything other people had reason to be jealous of Estelle because of her spotlight. The girl looked at her friend curiously, waiting for the explanation behind her comment, and they entered the room where Nadia stayed. Elle took a seat on the side of her friend's small white bed, crossing her legs and smoothing her dress out.

"It is obvious," she began, sounding as if her observation had been the most noticeable in the world, yet no one else had caught on. She sat down next to Elle on the end of the bed, attempting to get comfortable, and curled her long thin legs to one side. Then she continued to explain. "Did you not see the way that she eyed Hector? I believe that was his name… Anyway, she noticed the way that that director's son looks at you and it is not the same way he looks at her. To him she is simply entertainment, but you are more than that."

"You must be very observant, because I did not notice any of that. All I saw was Hector, yes that is his name you remembered correctly, watching her during opening night. His eyes never left her. She has no raison d'être for being jealous of me, that thought is ridiculous, although you know that I trust your judgment. I cannot picture it. I bet she could have almost any man in Paris." She highly doubted that a famous singer could be envious of her.

"Elle you underestimate your own beauty. Estelle may be popular, yes, but we all know how she is behind the scenes and it is not pretty. A man would be mad to want to marry her, yet alone live with her! I would rather shoot myself in head than have to put up with that woman every day of my life," Nadia responded rather dramatically. She laid back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, placing her arms under her head and crossing them. Her black hair was spread out over the sheets and the light coming in from the nearby window gave it a glossy appearance, even more so than normal. Elle had to turn to her left slightly to look at the girl behind her.

Elle laughed at her friend's answer, even though she did not completely agree with her. Yes Estelle was a pain and temperamental, but that was only around those who she viewed lower than herself. They did not know how she treated people of higher positions in society; therefore some people would probably never see her act like the world revolves around her or have to put up with her demands and unreasonable fancies. The directors were crazy to comply with her every whim just so that they would have a reasonably well-known singer as their lead. She did not seem worth the effort, but the public was superficial and mainly concerned with appearances.

"Only you would openly admit that," she finally replied after her laughter died down. If Estelle or one of her followers heard that then she would most likely pressure the directors until they had Nadia fired. Luckily they were alone at the time, and many of the other girls would agree with her because of Estelle's horrible treatment of them. Actually, there were people who complained about her behavior, but Nadia was the only one to express her opinion the way she did.

"A person would have to be deaf and dumb not to realize that Estelle is a pain," Nadia answered, still amused with their conversation. That was a statement that no one, not even Estelle's lackeys, could deny.

Their discussion ended there when they were interrupted by Meg Giry, who had just entered the room. She had her blonde up in a ponytail, and was wearing a modest white dress. As usual she had the same friendly composure and amiable smile about her. The girls were happy to see her because she was a friend of Nadia and one of Elle's first acquaintances there. They stopped talking without realizing it, listening to what the newcomer had to say. "There you two are. Guess what I found out? The directors have chosen the next opera that we are going to perform."

"Really? And what might that be?" Nadia asked with an active interest. It was nice to know what they would be rehearsing for weeks. She was not surprised that Meg had availability to this information in advance because her mother, Madame Giry, worked for the directors and was always one of the first people to find out what their decisions were. She also got to help them make some of them, when they asked for her opinion.

"Romeo Et Juliette," the blonde answered with the French title, taking a seat by the girls on the bed to the left of the one they were on. Some people had already heard of it, it was an opera based on a play by Shakespeare, an English actor and playwright.

"Estelle is definitely going to get the part of Juliette," Nadia predicted with a sigh, aware of the story behind the opera. Her conjecture was sensible and when she stated it aloud her friends nodded in agreement. You could tell by her voice that she was not pleased with the truth, but accepted it nonetheless. "But she does not deserve it. She is not right for the part, but the directors love her and she will always get the lead. Do you know when the auditions will begin?"

"Not yet," Meg replied shaking her head. "But they should be soon."

"I will be there cheering you two on," Elle commented with a smile. Another opera brings more rehearsals and another performance, not to mention it livens up the opera house. More talent will spill into the lavish theatre from the streets of Paris, and the ones already residing there in the opera house will eventually intermix with them. It was entertaining to watch these groups of people, from all blocks of life, showcase their abilities on stage. Music affects each one of them in a different way, making it interesting for Elle to observe.

"We expect nothing less," Nadia jested.

That day Elle had lunch with the chorus girls. It was nothing like the lunches that she was used to having with her parents, but the change was good for her. For the first time in a while she did stand on proper decorum, and that was a relief. The lunch itself was nothing special, simply some bread and cheese with water instead of wine. The atmosphere was relaxed and the conversation was purely based on gossip and rumors. For the most part Elle did not take part in the discussion, but just listened. She was not one to gossip, unlike many of the people there. Sometimes it was entertaining, but other times it was mindless babble.

She spent the rest of the day there in the dormitories. Everyone had the day off, so the older people were all out and the younger ones were hanging about with each other. People spent their free time in various ways: reading, drinking, telling stories, shamelessly gossiping, resting, going for walks, exploring, etc. Many of the girls stuck together though, and could be found in either the dormitory or the ballet foyer. Madame Giry had not been seen since that morning at the meeting, yet no one seemed to notice her absence. Her daughter must have seen her in order to find out about the next production, but other than that there were no signs of her.

When dinner came around, Elle had to join her parents in the dining room. That was her first time back upstairs since that very morning. All three of the D'aubigne's were present and on time, ready to eat. They had wine and a filling meal, both of which were satisfying. No one talked until about halfway through the meal because they were all busy eating, but then they eased into a conversation. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood that day for some reason or another.

Elle's mother was the first to break the silence. She took a long drink of water and then rested her hands lightly on top on the cotton napkin that sat on her lap. "So, how was everyone's day? I assume things went well at the office."

"Oh yes," Monsieur D'aubigne replied, setting down his glass of red wine. He looked a bit tired, but other than that he was pleasant. Due to his small fatigue was not in a talkative mood, so he did not have much to say. "Everything went very well."

"That is good news," his wife responded and then turned to look at their daughter, who was sitting to the right of her. She was old-fashioned and liked to keep a polite conversation going at the dinner table. Also she was really curious because she had not seen her family all day. "And how about you, my dear? What did you do today?"

"I spent the day with Nadia in the girls' dormitories," Elle honestly answered after swallowing the food that she had been chewing. She took another small bit after she replied, and looked up at her mother as she was eating it.

"I am so glad that you have made friends here," her mother stated, the ends of her mouth curling up in a smile. "I was a bit worried about how you would adjust."

"Don't worry about me, mama," she said, returning her mother's smile. "I will do just fine."

After dinner Elle retired to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. Having been out of her room all day she had yet to have time to practice, so her first thought was to take a seat at her piano. She laid out her long agile fingers over the black and white keys, and lovingly caressed them before she hit her first note. Then she took out a music score and began to play. She chose a slow song in order to ease her into the mood for playing, which was not hard to do.

When she finished she sat, closing the music sheets and placing them back in the pile, and then choosing a new piece. As Elle was looking through the sheets of music, she began to hear something. She looked up from what she was doing, and glanced around her room. Nothing was there and for a second the sound seemed to go away. Her head went back down to continue her task, but then it was back again. The noise started faint, she was straining her ears to hear it.

Then, once it got louder, she realized that it was the sound of clapping. Elle immediately stopped what she had been doing and set down the papers in her hands. She turned her body away from the piano in order to face the entire room, although she did not expect to see anything. Her ears waited for any addition sounds, and she opened her mouth. "Is anyone there? Is it you, master?"

A reply echoed from the walls. "Indeed it is, Mademoiselle. Are you ready to continue your lessons?"

Her face lit up with a glow of delight; he was finally back! She had been waiting for his return, for his instruction. Never before had she been so happy to hear a familiar voice as she was now, glad that her hopes had come true. Her innocent voice was suddenly full of energy. "Instructor, may I ask, where have you been? I have not heard from you for so long."

"I had business to attend to," he answered softly. "Now, look on top of your vanity."

She did as he commanded and found a piece of paper lying on the smooth marble. It was another music score, and she quickly looked over it and realized what it was from. The page was straight from the score of Romeo Et Juliette, the opera that was to be performed next by the opera house. She wondered if he meant anything by choosing that particular piece, but did not question him. Instead she began with her scales and then started the beginning of the song when she was told to. Her glee at the return of her teacher aided her, for it gave her more incentive to sing to the best of her abilities. He corrected her on every little detail, and after a long session he left her to sleep. That night she slept soundly, with a grin on her face.

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**A/N:** Please review! I'll be gone for a couple days, so this won't be updated till about Wednesday or Thursday. Check back then. 

**Galasriniel-** Star Wars, hehehe. Gracias muchacha.

**Danielle Black-** Thanks

**Anri-** Thank you, I'll try.

**Kate-** Hey, thanks for reviewing.


	12. Auditions

**Chapter 12**

Meg Giry had been right about the auditions for the new performance of Romeo Et Juliette, for the directors commenced them about three days later after announcing the date inviting all of Paris to attend and take a chance at getting a role. In those three days not much happened, the chorus girls grew tired of discussing Estelle and Elle's mother took to her bed again, not leaving her room for long periods at a time. Elle spent most of her time with Nadia; she had not seen Hector since opening night. Her late night singing lessons continued, and she was merrily progressing.

After dressing and having breakfast, Elle waited for the auditions to begin and when it was time she headed off to join the directors in the theatre. They did not mind her presence at all when she did join them, for she was a quiet and pretty young lady who did not cause disturbances, and since Hector was coming that day she could keep him company. She unexpectedly met the young man himself at the door when she came downstairs and he greeted her heartily with a smile and a wave. He was wearing a brown suit and his light brown hair was slicked back.

He held out his hand, asking for hers, and so she lightly placed hers over his. Leaning down, he placed a polite kiss on her small pale hand and then let it go. Elle slightly blushed to light pink, remembering what her friend had said about how he felt towards her several days ago, and she began to grow uncomfortable. She was not used to being in these types of situations. Then he straightened himself out and respectfully offered her his arm, which after a momentary hesitation she accepted, and he pulled open the thick door for her.

The two young people entered together and took seats on the red velvet beside the two directors, who had gotten there unusually early, in the third row of the theatre. People began lining up quickly, forming an extensive line that eventually wrapped itself out of the theatre doors, into the main foyer, and out into the dirty street. Due to their first successful performance, there were more people this time around then the auditions for Carmen. Actually, since opening night _L'Opera Magnifique_ was the talk of the town so to speak and people who had not attended then were planning to now.

Estelle was the first person to audition, which was not surprising. The prima donna, donning one of her expensive dresses with her long hair pinned in a heap on top of her head, pranced onto the stage, the heels of her shoes making small thuds on the wood. She took a place in center stage, acting like she owned the entire platform, and gave them a large smile. Her eyes traced over the first few rows, which was easy due to the good lighting. When she saw that Elle was sitting next to Hector in the audience her smile briefly turned into a scowl. She speedily regained her composure and placed her eyes on the directors. "Good morning _les directeurs_."

Although her response to the sight of the two was fleeting, Elle caught it. She thought back again to her conversation with Nadia, and she was finally beginning to believe her. By the way that Hector was treating her and how Estelle glared at her when she saw they were sitting together, Nadia's comment was starting to make sense. She instinctively turned to glance at Hector, and realized that her friend must have been right. His only interest in Estelle was of her voice. Her eyes turned back to the stage, and she could not wait for the woman to hurry up.

The soprano nodded at the maestro, and the music began. She chose to sing one of Marguerite's arias from Faust. Once again the woman's voice filled the theatre, and once again she made the same mistakes.

"_Ah, I laugh to see myself_

_So beautiful in this mirror,_

_Ah, I laugh to see myself_

_So beautiful in this mirror,_

_Is it you, Marguerite, is it you? _

_Answer me, answer me,_

_Respond, respond, respond quickly!" _

When the song ended the directors automatically began clapping enthusiastically and Estelle, grabbing the sides of her large and gaudy dress, curtsied. Elle sat, not moving one muscle, in disgust at how the directors were prejudice in that singer's favor. She secretly wondered whether Estelle's family donated any money to the new opera house, because she highly doubted that her father could afford all of the repairs to the place, not to mention the many workers and stagehands that he hired. It did not make sense to her about how Estelle was said to be popular anywhere.

"Very nice Mademoiselle," Mister Bolster stated loudly when their clapping came to a halt. He stroked his stubby chin and placed his right hand back on the arm of his seat. There was a clipboard sitting on top of his lap, which he used to make notes on the performers to look at on their return to the office to create the cast list. "We will be seeing you in a couple days."

Estelle did not look surprised, and she gave them another one of her haughty grins before responding in her shallow manner. "Till then Monsieurs." Then she leisurely made her way off the stage taking the same path that she did on entering and sneered at the other performers as she passed the line on her way out. Many of them recognized her, a small few grew more nervous, and a large number of them ignored her as she walked by. Elle was glad when the woman was finally out of the building and the next person came up onto the stage.

The next singer was a male; he looked about Hector's age, with soft curly blond hair and a thin frame. He was a newcomer, for Elle had never seen him around before, yet he sang with a fine level of confidence. His voice sounded young, he was young after all, and carefree. You could tell by listening to him sing that he had not had a very troubled life, which added even more to his boyish appearance. Nevertheless he was good, and Elle saw them scribble his name down when he was finished. He bowed courteously before clearing the stage for the next person.

Following him was an older woman, around her late thirties/early forties perhaps, who was a mezzo-soprano. She was a bit hefty and older than many of the other females who were auditioning, but her voice was more experienced than the others as well. At first the directors were hesitant about adding her to their growing list, but when she concluded her song they jotted something down. She did not stay for idle chitchat like the prima donna had done, but instead hurried off and hoped that she would be at least given some part in the opera.

After her was a younger girl who, although she was very attractive, could not sing if her life depended on it. This proved that the directors were not entirely superficial, for they stopped her halfway through the torture, that is of hearing her voice, and informed her that it was quite enough. She nodded and skipped her small body off of the stage. The several girls after her showed more promise, yet none of them were appropriate for the leading roles. There were also more men as well, of all ages and sizes, taking their turns at the stage. Many of them were tenors, but there were a few baritones and basses thrown in with the lot.

Then Elle was glad to see a familiar face. Nadia stepped onto the stage and nodded her head to let the people know she was ready. Her hair was wrapped tightly up on her head and away from her face, and she had on her fairly worn ballet shoes. Her expression grew serious as she began to dance, and Elle noticed that she actually closed her eyes. The girl's thin body moved gracefully and agilely with the music, without any apparent effort, and all without seeing what she was doing. It was quite a sight to behold and, seeing as she was the first dancer to audition, she was setting the bar pretty high for the others. Elle applauded her friend when she was done, and within a few seconds she was gone.

Elle made sure to look to see how the directors responded to her friend and she saw them add her to the list. When she put her eyes back on the stage they landed on yet again another familiar face. Isabel was standing there patiently waiting to be the next person to perform, which put Elle in an even better mood. Aside from her lack of confidence, Isabel was a very good soprano. She sang sweetly and with more feeling than Estelle ever could. Also she possessed a youthful innocence and modesty that flattered her every performance. Elle was sure that she would get another fair role, although it would not be the part of Juliette.

Many more people graced the stage after her, and the day grew to be tiresome. It started to seem as if the long line of talent would never end, and the four observers began to grow impatient. They stayed for a bit longer, but eventually stopped and sent the rest of the people home. There was simply not enough time in the day to allow everyone that wants to audition come before them. After the long day of auditions, Mister Tremaine and Mister Bolster returned to their office to discuss casting while catching a bite to eat. They would have to deliberate over whom to choose for each role, and then place the runners-up in the chorus. That is where the notes they took came in handy.

This left Hector Tremaine and Elle D'aubigne alone in the theatre. They left together the same way they had come, with Elle's arm around Hector's. Stopping in the main foyer, Hector turned to face Elle and leaned on the railing of the stairs. He remained in his same calm composure as always. "Would you like to go get something to eat? I am famished."

"Oh yes," she responded, her stomach was hungry as well. "I would like that very much."

"Well, then we shall get moving. I will go and fetch my carriage," Hector answered energetically and ran out of the building. He easily found his way to the stables and found the driver asleep. Waking him up, he got everything ready as Elle waited inside the main foyer.

She stood tolerantly waiting for him to reappear. Meanwhile she was thinking about her next lesson with the Opera Ghost. They gave her something to look forward to and allowed her to immerse herself in and relish herself with music. Currently they were working on a duet between the two leads, Romeo and Juliette. Her thoughts were on this topic when a black carriage pulled out in front of the opera house and Hector scurried over to open the door for her.

Elle was snapped out of her reverie by the reappearance of Hector, and so she descended the stairs, exiting the foyer. The driver set down a box for Elle step onto in order to get into the carriage, and Hector followed her into it. Then the driver picked up the box, closed the door, and then got back up on his seat. Pulling the reins, the horses began to move forward.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, curious. She did not get out much; the opera house had all that she needed within its walls so she had no reason to leave it. Her eyes wandered to the window, and she looked out at the street. People were going about their life, unaffected by the carriage that was rolling by. She saw peasants, women heading back home from the market, little children running around and playing in the side of the street, and men working. City life was still new to her, so it held its novelty.

"A café not far from here," he replied, sitting back and getting comfortable. Since he was adjusted to their surroundings he found no reason to look out the window. Instead his eyes were on her, for she was a novelty to him. "I know the owners. You will like it there."

He was right about the distance, and soon the carriage was stopping outside of a small building. The driver came around to the side again, helping his two passengers out of the carriage, before taking the horses around to the stalls. Elle accepted Hector's arm again, and they stood outside a moment before entering. The building was made of gray stones with a dark brown, almost black, roof. Once on the inside she saw that it was not as small as it looked, and it was actually quite nice.

They were greeted by a short woman who recognized Hector immediately. She hurried them in, took his coat, and was ready to seat them straight away. They sat down at a table in the back, the place was not very crowded but the back was quieter, and the woman took off. When she returned she was holding two glasses and a bottle of wine, which she plopped onto the table. Her friendly gaze fell back on Hector. "How is your mother doing, my dear boy?"

"Very well, thank you," he answered and then ordered their meal. Apparently the woman was friends with his mother from when they were younger. The meal went well; Elle was satisfied with the food and company, and soon she was escorted back to the opera house with a full stomach.

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**A/N:** Thank you to every who took time to review. 

**Galasriniel-** lol, indeed.

**Anri-** Sure thing.

**PopcornShirimp-** Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

**Kiwi Anime-** Thank you for pointing that out to me, I'll be more careful in the succeeding chapters.


	13. Tear Stained Angel

**Chapter 13**

The day went swiftly by, and Elle was soon back alone in her room. The music for the song she was working on was still opened up on her piano, although she normally only sang during her lessons. When the clock struck eleven she knew that he would be there and she was ready. Since they were working on duets, he always took the part of Romeo and she played Juliette. The more she listened to his voice, the more she wondered why he was not in the operas. He had a singing voice that could easily win the lead, yet he always remained hidden. Even if he was a ghost he could still grace other's ears with song.

When she heard his voice singing from the walls she knew that it was time for their lesson. She immediately was snapped out of her reverie and became more alert. Her throat was clear and ready to sing when it was her turn.

_"Listen, O Juliette!  
The lark already announces us to the day!"_

_"No, no, it's not the day dawning_

_ It isn't the lark _

_Whose song struck your disquieted ear,  
_

_It is the sweet nightingale,  
_

_Confidant of love!"_

_"It's the lark, alas, messenger of the day!  
_

_See its jealous rays _

_With which the horizon is gilded,  
_

_The candles of the night become pale _

_And the dawn _

_In the mists of the east _

_Arises smiling!"_

_"No, no, it is not day,  
_

_This lethal glow _

_Is nothing but the sweet reflection _

_Of the beautiful moon _

_Stay! Stay!"_

They sang through the scene together, without any interruption. When it was over the teacher began pointing out the weak parts to his pupil, fine tuning the performance. The errors this time around were less noticeable to the untrained ear, but still frequent. She had a bad habit of singing a particular note flat when it was not supposed to be. This was pointed out to her. She accepted the critic like every aspiring musician would, ready to listen to each detail and fix the mistakes. Her instructor was exact and noted every tiny flaw. His patience with his student did not seem lacking, yet his tone was always serious and his manner professional.

Time flew by, and Elle fell asleep automatically. When she awoke she looked around, a bit confused. She did not remember going to bed, and she looked down to see that she hadn't changed the night before either. This brought her to the conclusion that she must have been exhausted and passed out after the lesson, which was plausible and entirely possible. The sleep did her good though, for she felt refreshed and an overall well-being.

Elle had to open the drapes to allow light to enter her room. The sky was darker than usual, overcast, and full of gray clouds. Instead of the baby blue sky or pink sunrise that normally filled the heavens, everything was an ominous shade of gray. The sun was hidden behind the thick masses; therefore the light was dim and almost nonexistent. She ended up lighting a candle and setting it on her vanity, not letting the gloominess of the day to get to her.

Unbuttoning the front of her dress, Elle began to undress. When she was only in her corset and shift she sat down at her vanity. Sitting on top of the marble surface was a fresh bowl of water that she used to wash her face and neck before picking out the dress for that day. She pulled on a beautiful light lavender dress that accentuated the fairness of her skin and hair. Then Elle sat down again, carefully brushing her hair with her comb. With one quick movement of her frail hand, which only comes with experience, she twirled the hair onto her head and pinned it down with one silver comb.

There was radiance about her face on this particular morning and she could feel the glow from inside her, like she was a lantern containing a candle that emanated a soft flame. This blush of warmth flattered her pale cheeks, making her appear lovelier than usual. It was with this cheerfulness about her that she left her room, happy to be joining her parents for breakfast, and entered the hall. She had barely gotten three steps when she saw someone heading in her direction.

The person was a man, in his late fifties, wearing a hat on his head that covered the gray bushy hair. His face was covered with wrinkles, which were more apparent due to the solemn frown that was upon his weathered face. When Elle got close enough to get a good look at him she instantly recognized him; it was the doctor that her father had her call for several weeks ago. He walked up to her, politely taking off his hat with a small bow, and slowed down for a moment. His aged voice, very rough, spoke to her. "Mademoiselle."

Then the doctor brushed past, continuing on his way. The sparkle of contentment that once adorned the young woman's face was suddenly frozen over. The shine in her eyes went dull, the flush of her cheeks went pale, and the warmth throughout her entire body became ice cold. Her welcoming smile turned into a worried frown. It was as if she turned from a blazing fire into a frigid icicle in less than five minutes. Her glacial expression turned from the man's exit over to where he had come from, and her eyes landed on her mother's door.

She took little steps towards the door, never moving her eyes from the doorknob. The girl was curious as to what was going on behind the door, yet at the same time she was scared to discover the truth. It was like Pandora's Box, she had to open it even though the result might be something unspeakable. Finally she made it down the hallway and was standing outside of the door. Her hand reached out, touching the cold metal of the doorknob, and began to turn it.

Right as she was turning, the knob began to move itself, and Elle jumped back. The door opened, and a figure stepped through the threshold. It was none other than her father, Monsieur D'aubigne. He had the same appearance as the doctor had, with the wrinkled brow and upside down smile. All the usual affability of his nature was extinguished and he looked on at his daughter with a heavy sorrow in his countenance. This was not at all reassuring to the girl who stood there stiff yet trembling. They stood there for a few minutes, looking into each other's dreary eyes, creating a deafening silence.

Then the man opened his mouth to talk. He kept his face firm, obviously trying to keep his composure, although to do that was a struggle. "Elle, the doctor said that there is nothing he can do. She doesn't have much longer."

She knew what he was talking about right away, and almost fell down with shock. Her father gave her a brief hug before moving out of the doorway. He kept his gaze on her, wanting to give her the support that she needed. Her eyes filled with burning tears and moved from him to the room. Then she looked back at him, knowing that she had to go in there and be strong, and could not find the words to reply. He looked on her with understanding.

Elle eventually entered the room after collecting herself, her father stayed out in the hall. She silently closed the door behind her, and stood there for a few moments, unsure what to do next. Her eyes rested on the bed that was settled in the middle of the room, with thick navy drapes surrounding it. The curtains were pulled back on the left side of the bed, and the girl stepped in closer.

When she made it within distance enough to see her mother she sat on a chair, needing the stability, and noticed that the woman's eyes were closed. She did not want to wake her, so she sat there, and out of nowhere began to sing quietly, like a mother singing her baby to sleep. It was odd that she could not muster words to say to her father, yet she could sing. She sang the song mournfully, similar to how songs are sung at burials and poignant occasions.

_"Love, like a rose _

_Delicate and sweet _

_Yet withers away _

_In time, in time _

_But my love will never fade _

_Will never die"_

"Darling," her mother struggled to speak, causing Elle to instantaneously stop singing and focus all her attention on her. The woman had opened her eyes and recognized her only daughter sitting on a chair near the wall. "Who is it that was singing just now?"

"It is just me, mama," Elle answered, rushing to her mother's side and taking her cold motionless hand in her small warm one. She kneeled at the side of the bed, holding onto her mother like if she let go then she would fly away. The silver comb had fallen out of Elle's hair with the sudden movement and clattered onto the wooden floor, unnoticed. The girl was too upset to notice that her hair was no longer on top of her head, but free about her shoulders.

"Can it be?" she asked, almost in disbelief. She slowly turned her face to the right and smiled at her daughter. Then she raised her other hand and touched Elle's cheek with maternal love. "I always knew that God had given me an angel."

Elle began to cry, tears of helplessness and tears of love, and with her free hand she wiped the tears off of her smooth face. "I love you mama."

"Sing for me, my dear. Sing me to sleep."

It was hard for Elle to complete her mother's last request, but she tried her hardest to hold back her tears in order to sing. She sang softly, like last time, and kept her green eyes locked on her mother's dull brown ones.

_"One day, you'll drift out _

_Moving with the sea _

_May your dreams _

_Carry you back to me _

_And may your dreams _

_Be soft and sweet"_

Right when she finished that first verse her mother's eyelids closed, and she knew that she was dead. Her lifeless body lied before Elle, with a strange smile stuck on her face. Madame D'aubigne looked like she was truly happy, and the girl was glad that her mother died pleasantly. Elle remained holding her icy limp hand, and burst out in tears. She could not believe that her mother was gone.

The door opened, but Elle did not look up to see who it was. She was too consumed by a sudden wave of grief. The next thing she knew there was a sturdy hand on her right shoulder. The physical contact caused Elle to look up, almost shocked into reality, and she saw her father's solemn face. She jumped out of the chair, dropping her mother's hand, and hugged him emotionally. He stroked her hair and let her cry hysterically into his chest. One tear trickled down his face and dropped onto Elle's cheek, flowing down and integrating with her own.

The funeral was held the next day, and almost everyone from the opera house attended it. Rehearsals and meetings were put off for the occasion, allowing the owner and his daughter time to grieve. This was upsetting to the two directors, for now everything was to be pushed back, but it was necessary. The opera house was to be out of business for a week of mourning, and then things were to return to normal.

Elle dressed in black from head to toe and, although her father, Nadia, and Hector all wanted to be there for her, she insisted on spending time alone. After the funeral she returned directly to the opera house and made her way to the small chapel. It was her first time being there since her tour of the building, but she acted as though it was a place that she frequented. She took off her black hat and placed it beside her before kneeling before the rows of white candles and silently lighting one, staying on the floor.

"Mama," Elle cried, resting on her knees before the candles and not minding that a layer of dust covered the floor. Not many people visited the chapel, and she personally had never seen anyone go there before. "Wherever you are, I hope you are well."

"Elle…" She heard her name whispered and she darted her head to look around. She was alone, or so it appeared. Convinced that she was simply hearing things, she turned her head back around to face the lit candle before her and then put her head down, as if in prayer. That was the main light source in the dim-lit room, for the stained glass window kept out most of the sun. "Elle… dry your tears, my child."

That time she knew that she heard someone speak. She drew her head up, pushing back some of her dirty blonde hair with her right hand. Again she thought that no one was there, but then suddenly there was a shift in the dark corner. From the shadows a man slowly emerged dressed in all black except for a bright white mask that covered half of his face. She had seen that mask before, but she had thought that it was only a dream. Maybe she was dreaming now…

A black gloved hand stretched out towards her, waiting for her to accept it. A frown graced the young woman's tear stained face as she looked from the hand up to the person offering it to her in confusion. She seemed hesitant at first, not sure what to do, but something inside her mind urged her to move. Her petite fragile hand gently settled on the larger masculine one and the gloved fingers closed over it. The strong hand helped pull her to her feet, and led her away from the dim light into complete darkness. Her hat was left on the dust-covered stone ground, abandoned, along with the solitary white candle.

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**A/N:** Thanks a ton to my readers, especially those who review! 

**Anri-** Thanks

**Galasriniel- **lol, you'll see. P.S. You seem to have a thing for llamas, don't you?

**Kiwi Anime-** Thanks again for the tips.


	14. A Strange Duet

**Chapter 14**

The mysterious man slowly guided Elle in the darkness, holding onto her hand. She could hardly see, so she needed the guidance and gratefully accepted it. Soon thoughts of her mother's death flew from her mind as she walked in a trancelike state. Everything was quiet, not a word left either of their lips. The girl did not know where she was headed, but she did not think to ask. Something had come over her, leaving her speechless.

Little did she know at the time that the man who was leading her into dark and unknown passages was the Opera Ghost himself. He was not a ghost at all, but a real man. To her this was all surreal, but to him it was life. He had been watching her and her family since they moved in to his domain, gradually letting his presence known in little ways. His interest in this particular young woman began when he first saw her on one of his routine inspections of the opera house. He had entered the theater and been there for a few minutes, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the restored room. As he checked on his box and found everything satisfactorily, he noticed someone enter and step onto the stage.

It was a meek girl, about eighteen or nineteen. She was the first girl he had seen since Christine, his first and only love, but he fought those heartbreaking memories from his mind as he watched her as she took a spot on the center of the platform. It was obvious to him that she enjoyed being up there, and he almost felt awkward intruding on such a personal moment. He was intrigued by the expression on her face when she was on the stage, which led him to question her. She stated that she was not a performer and when he asked her to sing she ran off, apparently frightened. This did not disturb him, by the type of life he had lived he was used to people being scared of him.

He pondered over her, and thought that maybe in extending an invitation to her for singing lessons he would have something to distract himself with. When he was alone he spent most of his time composing music, but it no longer held the same sensation as it once did. It was enough to occupy his time, yes, but he still thought of his love. Later he learned that his new student was actually the daughter of the man who was responsible for the reconstruction of his opera house, which brought him some contentment. He was grateful, in a way, to her father for fixing his home and the lessons could be seen as a sort of indirect payment for the favor.

After the first lesson he no longer presented himself to her, for fear of getting too close. He was simply teaching her how to sing properly, and he quickly learned that she was an obedient student. It pleased him that she did not ask questions, as he had stipulated, and things seem to go smoothly. That was until she began to remind him of Christine. He disappeared for a bit, staying in his home underneath the theatre and focusing all of his energy on composing. Time could not put the girls from his mind though, and soon he longed for human contact. Their lessons continued and he was delighted with the promise that the young woman showed in her singing. With time listening to her no longer made him think of Christine, they had different singing voices and he had tried hard to push her from his mind.

The death of Elle's mother and her obvious pain got to him. He had been suffering with a pain of his own and, after seeing a once radiant young woman turn frigid and sorrowful, he felt sympathetic towards her. He had not left the safety of his opera house to venture out to the funeral, but he watched as people left to go to it and as the girl returned. His eyes followed her to the lonely chapel, which was set off from the rest of the building, and he witnessed her light a candle in prayer. She was beautiful, even with a face full of tears.

His soft voice whispered to her, in an attempt at comforting the shaken mess. With some deliberation he stepped from the protection of the shadows, allowing the dim light of the candle to reveal part of his form. The girl recognized him to some extent, he could see it in her eyes, as he offered out his hand to her. He did not know what to expect, but after a few seconds her hand was in his and he was helping her up from the floor. His intentions were honorable as he led her away from that chilly room and deeper into the building. She followed, and for awhile they walked in silence. He looked back at her from time to time, even though she was in a hypnotic state.

When they were finally in the labyrinths under the opera house, Elle began to come out of her silent trance. She watched, as best she could considering the lack of light, as the man lead her through many tunnels. The tunnels twisted and turned, like a complex maze, yet he never hesitated about which route to take. He knew exactly where they were going, and as she walked along she remembered that he was holding her hand.

Then they suddenly stopped walking. He turned to her and gently picked her up in his strong arms. It lasted a second, for then he set her down in something just as gently as he had picked her up. Her eyes had gradually adjusted to the darkness during their time getting there, and she could see that she was sitting in a wooden boat. He stepped in after her, pushing the boat from its spot and moving it along with purpose. She glanced from him to the direction that they were headed and soon she saw land. The boat passed through a small lake and when it hit the ground he jumped out, this time helping her out of the boat.

As Elle looked around, convinced that she was asleep, she began to sing. The words came to her naturally, as did before. There was a dreamlike haze surrounding her as she stood there and watched the person who had brought her there. Her singing started out at first to herself, but then turned to the man with her.

"_I must be dreaming,_

_You can't be real,_

_You are my imagination,_

_Guiding me away from pain."_

The man looked up from what he was doing to glance at the girl. He stepped from the shore and once again took her hand. Slowly leading her from where he docked the boat, he began to reply to her in the same way she had sung to him. His voice was rich and deep, still as good as it had ever been. He was an amazing tenor, with talent that he had to keep hidden from the world.

_"Then let the dream descend,_

_Leave behind your reality,_

_I'll be your imagination,_

_Forget about your agony, I'm here."_

Elle followed him, his enchanting voice bringing her once more into a stupor. She looked around, the place was unbelievable. Candles were lit everywhere, an organ sat by piles of music scores, and black curtains blocked entrances to other rooms. He took a seat on the bench in front of his organ, letting go of her hand, and took off his gloves. Placing them to the side, his fingers lightly traced over the keys before he began to play a tune. Elle stood behind him, watching his experienced fingers move quickly over the keys as he played. She continued singing.

_"How strange is this,_

_World of dreams,_

_Your voice, it sounds,_

_Familiar and sweet." _

He pounded away at the keys; the music gave more substance to the song. This was the closest contact he had had with anyone since the first lesson he gave her, and although he liked to believe that he had grown past the point of needing any interaction with people, he needed it. His voice once again responded to hers as they created this strange duet.

_"This is simply,_

_The world of music,_

_Let the notes embrace you,_

_And soothe your soul." _

This did indeed take all the thoughts of Elle's recent loss from her mind. She could think of nothing but the music and that eased her mind. For some reason her singing improved when she was in this kind of condition. When she was not consciously thinking about what she was doing she let her voice take on a life of its own, which made it soar higher than it ever had before.

After some time of singing, neither of them could tell how long they were done there for they both had gotten quite carried away by the music, they slowly brought their time together to an end. The fatigue from singing for a long time and the softness of his voice brought Elle to sleep, and the Opera Ghost had to carry her to the boat. His gaze went back and forth between the direction in which they were headed and her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful and innocent, young and naïve. In a moment of despair her mind let him take over and bring her from those mournful thoughts. He was not sure if he was doing her a favor or taking advantage.

With this thought the boat stopped on the other side of the lake and he once again picked her up in his arms. Even though she was immersed in a deep sleep, he was careful not to disturb her. He carried her through the network of tunnels like she was an expensive piece of china that he was scared to break and slowed his speed so that she would not wake. Her body must have caught a chill from the damp passageway, for she snuggled into his arms for warmth. He glanced down at her with mixed emotions, but carried on his way.

It took longer than usual to get to the hidden door that he needed at the pace that he had been going. With one hand that came out from underneath Elle's body he touched a latch and a door-sized part of the wall began to move in a circle. They were soon on the other side of the wall and he looked around to find them in her bedroom. He walked over to her bed and vigilantly laid her down upon the mattress. Before he turned away he pulled a blanket over her and then returned to the wall. In the darkness he found the way to counteract the movement of the wall and in less than a couple seconds he was back in the hidden passageway.

Rarely did he actually use that secret entrance that he constructed while the room was being built, but he did stand behind it many a time to give Elle her late night lessons. It was only a coincidence that she obtained that room, but there were also several other rooms that he had installed hidden doorways as well. He liked having several routes of possible escape at all times, so these various passageways were handy to have around. Without looking back he resumed his usual speedy pace and returned to his home below ground in less than ten minutes.

Elle did indeed sleep very soundly. Any form of physical or mental exertion could help anyone fall into a deep slumber. When she woke up she yawned and sat up in bed, stretching out her arms. At the moment the memory of Madame D'aubigne's death did not come to mind, but instead she began to think about something else. Hazy thoughts clouded her mind as she sat there and tried to make sense of it. What a dream she had! It all became fresh in her mind the more she pondered over it, and the dream was a pleasant thing for her to think about.

She pushed the covers off of her and got up from her comfortable bed. As she walked she found that her thoughts were completely focused on the dream that she had the previous night. When she was over at her large window she pulled the curtains open and her eyes danced excitedly. She spoke aloud to herself as she stood looking out at the sky. "I dreamt of beauty so divine, not of looks but of sound. Oh, that voice that sang to me in my dreams!"

Then she turned around and strolled over to her vanity. As usual she took her place on the cushion and began to commence her morning ritual. The minute Elle looked up into the mirror she stopped and started at herself with surprise. She was still dressed from the night before. That did happen occasionally, when she was too tired to undress, but it still gave her reason to doubt herself. When she tried to think back, she did not remember falling asleep or returning to her room. Was that marvelous dream a dream like she thought, or reality? Elle laughed at the question, thinking that it could not have possibly been real. Then she looked at the somber black dress that she had on and the recollection of her mother's funeral suddenly stabbed at her mind. She lost her appetite and sat there for a long while staring into space.

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**A/N:** Just thought I'd put another chapter up before I have to be shipped off back to hell- I mean school. As always I thank my readers and loyal reviewers, without the encouragement I doubt that I would continue. Anyway, I'm not sure when I will update next but I will try to make it soon. Hope you liked the chapter. 

**Galasriniel-** Thank you immensely for the wonderful compliment. I haven't seen Finding Neverland yet, but I do know that Kate Winslet's character dies. Anyway, thanks again!

**Anri-** I tried to ease into it, but at the same time wanted it to be a shock for the characters. Glad you enjoyed it.


	15. Recovery and Rage

**Chapter 15**

Days passed by, taking with them the week of mourning. People began living their lives as if nothing had happened, continuing on with their work with as much rigor as before. Monsieur D'aubigne began to play a less active role in the productivity of the opera house as he took to spending hours alone in his office, exhibiting the common characteristics of a recluse. Since the death of his wife he had no re-entered her room or parlor and, although he was never a particularly garrulous man to begin with, he became reticent in all of his relations. The directors understood the reasons behind the sudden change in his occupational and social behaviors and gladly took on the extra responsibilities that he had once held. He was rarely seen outside of the sanctuary of his office, except to join his daughter for breakfast and an occasional dinner during which he would sit and stare at his plate, sometimes attempting a sparse conversation.

Elle, on the other hand, did not completely cease all human interaction. During the week of grieving she too isolated herself, frequently refusing to see Nadia and Hector. The only person she would speak to was the Opera Ghost when he visited her, which he began to do more often. It did not take her long to realize that the only way that could stop the loss she felt was through singing, and it made her feel better to think that wherever her mother was she was watching down on her, listening to the music she produced. It was a hopeful thought that aided in bringing her through the rough trials of bereavement for the woman who raised her.

Her instructor could not be more pleased with his pupil. Yes, she had suffered a great tragedy, but it did wonders to her voice. This abrupt alteration thrilled him; Elle had never before sung with such open emotion and tenderness. The night that he had first introduced her to his lair, even though he was aware that she was convinced it had been a fanciful dream, she had sang without any apprehension or reservations. Now she sang like that, except on a higher level. It was like Elle was attempting to sing to the angels themselves, meanwhile subconsciously using every bit of advice that he ever gave her. He was excited that his efforts had not gone to waste. For some reason he was not surprised that an event so tragic could reveal something so beautiful. Even so, the mournful tones with which she often sang made her a perfect candidate for his music, if he so wished to invite her to do so. Understandably he still held uncertainties due to experiences with his previous student.

When the next week began, Elle found something else to immerse herself in. She continued on with her music, but also dedicated herself to the new production. Her father had mostly given up on his work, yet his daughter took an active role in the opera house in his stead. The young woman decided that it would be a good thing to take up her time during the day, for her teacher mostly visited her at night. She began to attend every single meeting. Elle had not auditioned for a part in the performance, but she knew more about what was going on than any of the people who did. The directors allowed her to watch and give aid when needed; they thought that participation in anything would be the cure for her woe so that she would not end up becoming withdrawn like her father.

The directors had decided on their cast list before the funeral, but they had to hold off on presenting it to anyone. Elle was the first outsider, so to speak, to see it. Her intelligent eyes scanned the parchment while her mind carefully cast its judgment on the men's decisions. They did not notice the expression of disapproval in her eyes, nor did they care. The rehearsals were to begin promptly the next day, with a focus on the main two characters. Meanwhile Madame Giry was set to begin teaching the dances to the chorus girls. Everyone there was already familiar with the opera, the choice had been announced before the death of Madame D'aubigne and therefore those who did not know it had a week to learn.

The role of Juliette, predictably, was handed over to Estelle. She was their prima donna, and they seemed convinced that if she remained in the spotlight that the money would continue to roll in. Isabel, whose voice was more deserving of the lead female role, was given the part of Romeo's page Stephano. The character was male, but it was created for a soprano and had a solo, so she was simply to dress as a man. The part of Romeo went to Maximilien, not for the same reasons as with Estelle but because he was the best tenor available and already under contract.

There were new people that got distinguished roles as well, and some Elle recognized. The woman who was to play Gertrude, Juliette's nurse, was the hefty mezzo-soprano. That was a smart match, for not only was her voice proper for the part, she physically fit the role. Also another person that had made an impression on Elle while she watched the auditions from the audience quietly was given a role, the young man with blond curls. He secured himself the part of Mercutio, who had a solo and several appearances in the opera. These roles were a privilege to those who had yet to make themselves a name in the business of theatre, but Elle knew that they deserved it.

The first several rehearsals went surprisingly well. There were as of yet no conflicts between the performers and everyone seemed to be preparing faster than it took last time for the performance of Carmen. Elle was early to each rehearsal, silently studying the directors and other participants as they worked. She soon learned if not everyone by name, then by face, and became accustomed to the habits and preferences of the directors. They rarely noticed her observing glance and when they did they thought nothing of it. The two men were easily distracted, always seemed to be preoccupied by something to notice the little things taking place around them.

One morning Elle slipped from her room automatically, walking with a purpose with the theatre as her destination. She was headed there for another ordinary rehearsal. Only a few stagehands that were setting up the stage for that day's practice beat her there, and none of them looked up as she took dainty steps towards the front of the room, the small heels of her shoes making soft patters on the carpeted floor. Everyone had become used to her daily presence, so if she had not shown then it would have been considered odd. Her eyes scanned the area, and then she took a seat in the first row, quiet except for the adjustments that she was making to her skirts. When she looked up again she saw that people were beginning to stir on stage and slowly replace the stagehands.

As usual the performers emerged from the wings of the stage, ready to take their places and begin the end of act three. Nadia amiably waved to Elle from the back of the chorus before returning her attention to the girls around her. They whispered to each other until they heard a harsh word from Madame Giry, which would cause them to stop talking and giggle behind her back in defiance. Maximilien entered the stage with Isabel; his leading lady was always the last to arrive. The blond man, Elle soon found that his name was Jacob and that he was Scandinavian, hurried onto the platform behind them. He would not have much to contribute to this rehearsal, because his character dies where they were supposed to be starting at, but he was dedicated to the production so he took it seriously. Several more people followed his lead, and soon the stage was almost full.

Then the prima donna chose to make her entrance. She stepped onto the stage, standing still until everyone cleared a path for her. Her presence was not yet necessary, she was not needed until the next scene, but she probably wanted to see the directors before they began. Elle saw disappointment in the woman's face when she saw that only Elle was sitting out in the audience, which was exaggerated due to the excess of make-up that was applied to her skin. Without saying a word to her, Estelle turned around and strutted her way over to Maximilien. They exchanged words, which never turned out pleasant for they did not get along off stage, and then she started her way back to the right wing, scuffing her heels on the boards as she went.

It was obvious that the directors were late, yet no one seemed to complain. They took this tardiness as a chance to socialize with their fellow performers. Right as Estelle was stepping out of Elle's view, the doors to the theatre flung open. Tremaine and Bolster stepped through the doorway, carelessly letting the doors to slam closed behind them as they proceeded up the aisle. At that moment everyone's eyes turned to watch them ascend up to where Elle was sitting. Estelle stopped walking and turned to see them, glancing for a second before continuing off the stage. The directors sat down without a word, Mister Bolster wiping his forehead with a white handkerchief that Elle saw him pull out of his coat pocket. Mister Tremaine's lips were drawn tight at his mouth, and they both seemed strangely out of sorts. The girl could not help noticing that they seemed a bit annoyed about something, but they obviously were not about to voice their concerns.

Instead they sat there for a moment, gaining back their equanimity, before Bolster slipped the piece of fabric back in his pocket and looked at his partner as a signal to begin. With one word accompanied by a gesture, Tremaine ordered the maestro to start up the music as Jacob took out his sword and began fighting with the man who played Tybalt. Then he 'died' and exited the stage, leaving Maximilien to take center stage. The directors watched on near Elle, but they did not have the same level of concentration on the scene as they normally had. Elle's eyes, on the contrary, were lively as they observed the dramatic turning point in the opera.

When the scene ended with the chorus crying out, many people began clearing off of the stage to make way for the beginning of the next act. Act four began with a duet between Romeo and Juliette, one that Elle knew very well through her lessons with the Opera Ghost, so everyone else was not needed there at the moment. Not only was Elle well-versed with those duets, but from attending each rehearsal she grew to know the entire opera by heart. Sometimes while getting dressed or taking a walk around the building, she would mindlessly began singing lines from Romeo Et Juliette under her breath, although it was only when she was alone.

Estelle clunked her way onto the stage, taking place opposite Maximilien. The stagehands had set part of the scene up as Juliette's bedroom during the short break; of course everything did not need to be set, only the props that were necessary for the scene. The prima donna took a seat in a lavish armchair, waiting for her queue to begin. When it was given she began to sing, constantly turning her gaze back and forth from Maximilien and the directors. Not once did she look at Elle. The leading man responded with his part, and Elle had to listen through the duet. Their recital was anything but sublime; Estelle may be able to sing, but she was definitely no actress. The duet demanded emotion and there simply was no chemistry between the two performers, even when they sang. The directors did not seem to notice, their response was a dull statement of approval.

For the next scene the woman playing Gertrude entered, and Estelle made a motion to get off of the chair that she had been sitting in. Everyone watched impatiently, waiting for the woman to respond with her lines, but instead she sat there struggling to get up. A couple minutes later Francesca, the hefty woman, tried to lend her aid by grabbing her arm, but she soon found that Estelle's arm was as stuck to the chair as her body was. Soon Estelle's face turned a bright shade of red under the heavy rogue that she already had on, and she turned an accusatory eye around the area. People began to come onto the stage to see what was going on, including Isabel and Jacob. No matter what anyone did, Estelle remained firmly fixed on the seating.

This caused the prima donna to fly into an unruly rage. Since she was attached to a chair as she pointed her finger angrily, whipping her red hair about, she created quite a sight. The situation was quite humorous to those around her. Only the directors remained stiff while many others could no longer contain their laughter. That incensed Estelle even more. Her fuming eyes looked searchingly about her, momentarily over Elle, and then finally landing on Isabel. The innocent young woman was only trying to help her fellow performer, but in return she was snapped at. "It was you! You did this to me, you conniving wench!"

Isabel backed up cautiously at this unwarranted remark, realizing that it was not a good idea to go near the woman while she was in such frenzy. Anyone could tell by looking at her natural surprise that she had nothing to do with the incident. As Estelle continued hollering unladylike, Maximilien and Jacob grabbed hold of both sides of the chair at Mister Tremaine's suggestion, and began to carry her off to her dressing room. Once there other women helped Estelle get out of the elaborate dress she was wearing, which was the only way that she could get free of the armchair. Rehearsals were cancelled for the rest of the day.

The directors returned to their office, in a worse mood than they entered with, and waited for the inevitable. When Estelle changed she stormed over to their office, still furious. Those she passed immediately moved out of her way, not wanting to be attacked by someone with such an out of control temper. She banged the door closed behind her and her voice could be heard screeching at them from down the hall. What the men said went unheard, but one could almost picture the horror on their hopeless faces.

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**A/N:** Thanks again to my reviewers, I am glad to be able to get this chapter out considering the swarm of work that my teachers threw at me the moment I returned from break. Hope you liked it and I am also hoping to be able to update within the next several days. Please review! 

**Galasriniel-** I love Lord of the Rings; it's a great movie. Anyway, there is only one marking period left to go until summer, I'm sure we will make it. Glad you liked the chapter.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** Hello new reviewer, and don't worry, I love Erik's character too much to do that.

**Anri-** You should do that, sounds like fun. Ty for the compliment.


	16. The Phantom of the Opera

**Chapter 16**

The following events would not have occurred if insult were not added to injury. Estelle was soon full aware that she was now the laughingstock and gossip of the opera house, even as she stormed by the others on her way to her carriage she could hear snickers behind her back. She could tolerate working with people below her social class, but this disrespect was too much for her to handle. With a scowl, and cursing the place under her breath, Estelle flew out of the building and did not hesitate to take off in her awaiting carriage without taking so much as a second look behind her.

Everyone who had been witness to the prima donna's tantrum was anxious to discover what actually happened in the office. Some of them lingered about the theater and foyer, hoping to overhear something or catch a glimpse of the directors. Many were sorely disappointed when all they got for waiting around after the rehearsal was cut short was to watch Estelle flounce into the foyer and through the front doors without openly acknowledging their presence. Judging by the expression on her face they deducted that she had not been mollified by the directors, yet that did not slake their hunger for information. A majority of the interested party were enjoying the irritation of the soprano, even though they knew it forecasted the wrath of the directors.

The two men did not leave their office for the duration of the day, but not long after Estelle made her exit Madame Giry descended from the stairs. Her face was pulled into a tight serious expression, which was not unlike her, and she gathered the people about her. They knew that she came from seeing the directors and so they were interested in what she had to say. She spoke calmly and as if she was under instruction. Everyone was aware that she worked closer with the directors than the others, making her a medium between the two groups. "_Les directeurs_ have asked me to announce that there will be a meeting tomorrow morning in the theatre before the scheduled rehearsal. It is mandatory that everyone attend. Please pass this on to the others."

Murmurs were heard throughout the small crowd, and Madame Giry turned on her heels to leave in the manner in which she came. A man's voice stopped her from taking her first step towards the staircase. "Do you know what happened or what the meeting is pertaining to?"

She glanced back for a moment, cast a cursory glimpse at the person who addressed her, and then reluctantly opened her lips to reply. This woman was evidently not prone to gossip like her fellow workers were. Any other person would have quickly divulged everything they knew, but the reason that she was entrusted with information in the first place was because the owner had faith in her loyalty and honesty. Her words were short and reserved. "Everything you need to know will be addressed tomorrow at the meeting."

Then the woman retreated, leaving behind her a cluster of unsatisfied gossipers. They had the rest of the day off and so they eventually dispersed, making the most of their free time. Back in the dormitories the girls were sitting in groups, rambling on about Estelle and the incident of that day. Some of them had good enough memories to bring up the accident at a previous rehearsal when Maximilien's toupee was lifted from his head and the time when Estelle had a fit in the theater about some letter that she had received. They became convinced that all of the strange occurrences that happened in the past couple months were somehow connected.

One of the girls, a rather young one with dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, sat in the middle of a group. She had gathered their attention, and the others were listening intently to her as she chattered on in an excited high-pitched voice. "I was listening outside of the door when the directors were with Estelle," she claimed energetically, her eyes scanning the girls around her. "I heard Estelle threaten to cancel her contract and never return to the opera house. The directors begged for her to stay, saying that they would get to the source of the mischief and that it would never happen again. Then she said that it better not, or she would find another opera house to sing at and this one would have to go on without her. Very pompous, indeed! If any of us talked to them like that then we would be out on the street in a second! Anyway, she finally agreed to stay, on the condition that she gets a better dressing room, more private rehearsals, and that they fire Isabel."

"Fire Isabel! But she had nothing to do with it!" Nadia exclaimed. She had been listening to the girl babble on about what she had claimed to overhear, which by the sounds of it was highly probable. The demands of Estelle sounded exactly like something that she would ask for, but the firing of Isabel crossed the line. The young woman could not believe that the directors would fire the best soprano that they had due to a prima donna's unreasonable jealousy. Everyone was quite aware that Isabel was innocent of the prank pulled on Estelle, so it was completely unnecessary for her to lose her place.

"Exactly," the girl responded, ready to continue. Chorus girls like her lived for gossip. "That is what the directors said. They told her that they would immediately fire the person or people responsible for the incident, but that they could not afford to loose the soprano this far into the production because then they would have to find someone to take her place. I think that after Romeo et Juliette is over Isabel is not going to get another part in an opera here. Estelle made it very clear that she did not want Isabel in the opera business any longer. Poor Isabel doesn't even know, and I don't think that she understands why Estelle has such a vendetta against her."

Meanwhile the directors were locked up in their office. They decided not to mention this state of affairs to Monsieur D'aubigne, considering his current mental state, and figured that the situation would be settled once and for all the following morning. The men refused to see anyone, except for Madame Giry who they had asked into their office earlier that day. Running the opera house was proving to be more stressful than they thought it would be and they were beginning to doubt that they had made the best decisions when hiring. They would have to find a way to return everything to a normal state, for the show was to be put on in less than two weeks. The opera house could not afford to have any disruptions in the schedule.

Elle returned to her room during the chaos of Estelle's outburst, with nothing to do now that rehearsal was canceled. She retired to her piano, allowing her agile fingers to take over and the music to wash from her mind any unpleasant thoughts. It was this way that she spent the rest of her day, in ignorance of the rumors that were spreading like wildfire throughout the opera house. Madame Giry was kind enough to knock gently on her door and inform her of the recent news of a meeting. This information was not shocking to the young woman; actually it was exactly what she expected the directors to do. She planned to attend, even though she did not need to. That night she did not have a lesson, a visit from her instructor of music never came.

The next day people rose early, heading off to the theatre for the meeting. Only Monsieur D'aubigne was ignorant of what was taking place, but even if he was aware of the gathering it was likely that he would not attend. Elle woke up earlier than usual for the purpose, having breakfast alone in the empty dining room. Then she joined the gradually increasing congregation in the large theatre, taking her typical seat in the first row of velvet seating. She watched as people came, spreading out in the great room. It seemed that everyone was present, even those who worked behind the scenes in various places of the opera house.

Elle saw Nadia enter the theatre with a group of chorus girls, and when the girl caught sight of her friend she quickly left the others to join her. Even though Elle did not spend time with her like she used to, Nadia still attempted to talk to her and remain friends. She sat down next to her and instantly began relaying to her everything that she had heard in the dormitories. Elle was shocked at the news pertaining to Isabel, both of them agreed that Isabel was the one who deserved to stay and have the lead soprano role. None of this seemed fair.

Around the time that Nadia finished divulging all the information she knew, the directors entered similar to the way they had the previous day, except this time instead of troubled they appeared stern and angry, taking their place on the stage in front of the entire congregation. The room became silent as soon as they were noticed, everyone was anxious to hear what this meeting was about. There was a minute or two of complete silence before Mister Tremaine spoke while Mister Bolster stood quietly next to him with a sweaty red face.

"You should all know why you are here, but in case you do not then I will explain," Tremaine began, in the sternest and most serious voice that any living man can muster. "Yesterday there was an incident during rehearsal, in which a prank was pulled on our lead soprano Estelle La Rous. I have assembled all of you here today to make you aware that behavior like that is not accepted in this opera house and will not be tolerated. Now, I know that it was one of you who committed this horrible act of mischief and so I am giving whoever it was who did this, whichever one of you it was, the chance to step forward and confess."

At this statement people looked around at each other and for a moment everything was still. Then a man who looked like he was in his late fifties, with his thin gray hair brushed back, stepped forward. He held a dark gray cap in his calloused hands, turning it in circles with evident nervousness. His face was slightly wrinkled, with deep burrows about his tanned forehead, and his thin drawn lips were chapped. It was another moment before he gained the courage to speak out and interrupt the current silence of the already irritated directors. His humble voice spoke out for all of the superstitious opera rats, voicing the majority's opinion. "It was the Opera Ghost, sir, the Phantom of the Opera."

The people around him murmured in agreement, nodding their heads, and adding to the directors' frustration. For once Mister Bolster was not grinning, nor did he have the usual amiability about him. Instead both of the men were thoroughly upset, their faces turning red with annoyance. Mister Tremaine's eyes turned to the man who dared to disrupt his speech and carefully scrutinized him. With a look of disdain he moved his eyes from the one man to the entire group of people. The statement had aggravated his mood, not to mention the assent that came from the others. Shaking his head he replied angrily, "There is no such thing as an Opera Ghost! You must think me a fool!"

"Not at all sir," the older man responded, his eyes lowered. He was speaking honestly, but obviously the director did not believe him. Calmly, he tried to explain what many of them sincerely believed. "This was the work of the Phantom of the Opera. He is back from the grave- haven't you heard about how he haunted _L'Opera Populaire_ years ago? I worked here then too, and it was not uncommon for occurrences like this to happen."

"Nonsense!" The director shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. He did not believe a word of it. "Those ghost stories were simply a product of superstitious people's imaginations. There is no Phantom of the Opera, there never was. One of you did this," He pointed threateningly towards the crowd of scene-shifters, who were standing by the old man who had spoken out, with his index finger. "I am sure of it, and if someone does not come forward and admit that it was them then I am going to fire each and every one of you!"

No one stepped forward; they all simply stayed where they were, afraid to upset the directors any more than they already were. Elle watched avidly as the directors stood there on the stage for five minutes, staring out at the group of people. Mister Tremaine was furious and he had begun pacing the stage, saying that he would give them five more minutes before he would start firing people. Even this threat did not produce the response he wanted and everyone still stayed in their spots. When the five minutes were up no one had confessed to the trick pulled on Estelle.

"Time is up! If no one will admit to the truth then you will all suffer for one person's insolence. As of now all of the stagehands are fired, and you will not receive pay for this month. You are expected to be out of this building by this evening. The rest of you take this as a warning. This conduct will not be tolerated and I will not hesitate to get rid of more of you if this behavior continues. That is all, you are all dismissed. Rehearsal starts in one hour."

The directors then left the stage, leaving behind them a room of confused and disgruntled people. The stagehands were extremely upset at this unwarranted firing, and many people who were present did not find it fair that they were fired. The only way that they could explain the incident was the Opera Ghost, stories of whom were circulating the people of the opera house. Other people were glad that the rage had only been taken out on the stagehands and not everyone, but there was still a commotion. People began to file out of the theater, many heading off to prepare for rehearsal.

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**A/N:** Sorry I didn't get this out sooner, I've been so busy. Anyway, hoped you liked it and thanks for the reviews. 

**Anri-** That's good. Yeah, me too, those prima donnas deserve whats coming to them.

**Galasriniel-** I have about ten more weeks… Life has always been crazy, lol.

**lizzie-** Yes, sir!


	17. Thine be the Glory

**Chapter 17**

Elle stayed behind, telling Nadia to go get ready and that she would see her later. The girl left, following a trail of whispering chorus girls, and eventually Elle was the only person left in the theater. She sat quietly in her seat, pondering over what had just happened. The chorus girls were not a valid source of information, she never believed most of their gossip, and she could not understand why they were blaming the Opera Ghost for every little accident that happened there. It was not unreasonable to assume that what happened to Estelle was either an accident or the product of someone's anger towards her. The woman had many enemies, and it was not hard to understand why. Elle simply could not believe that her teacher, her instructor of music who taught her how to sing properly and himself could sing like an angel, would do something like that.

Then she remembered the letter. Yes, he obviously did not like the prima donna either, but that does not mean that he would play tricks on her. Even if he were responsible, who could honestly say that she did not have it coming? The whole thing would have been simply a humorous incident if the repercussions were not so harsh. Elle was sympathetic towards the people who were unjustly injured by this occurrence. The directors had no right to treat everyone the way they did that morning, but the person most responsible for their behavior was Estelle. She threatened the success of their opera house and it was understandable that the directors would want to do everything possible to keep everything running smoothly so that the show would go on as scheduled. The only thing was that now all of the stagehands were fired they were going to have to go and hire new ones. If only Elle's father knew what was going on in his opera house he would probably be pulling out his hair.

The only thing that really surprised Elle was the fact that many of the theatre people seemed to know about the Opera Ghost. She thought that he had only contacted certain people, including her father, Estelle, and herself, but apparently some of them knew he existed. The stagehand that had spoken out as a representative of the opera rats stated that the ghost had been haunting this particular building for years, which in a way was not too surprising. In the first letter that he left for her he referred to the opera house as his own, and if he had resided there for some time then it made sense that he thought of the place as his own. It was, however, the first time that she ever heard him called the Phantom of the Opera. That title made him sound sort of intimidating, yet the Opera Ghost that she knew no longer frightened her in any way. Although she was not scared of him, she still would not attempt to break her boundaries and outright ask him about if he was indeed behind what happened to Estelle or about his past. Instead Elle would ask her friend Nadia, or if she does not know then there was always Meg Giry, about it. Of course her own connection with him would remain a secret, but she did not see how it would hurt to try and find out what the others know.

Since she was in such a deep train of thought, Elle did not notice when people began filling up the stage, preparing for the rehearsal. The directors decided to start off again with the beginning of act four and the duet between Romeo and Juliette. For this reason people were scurrying around, finding spots to wait backstage and eventually leaving the stage empty for Maximilien and Estelle. No one was looking forward to seeing Estelle; actually the majority of the cast would probably have celebrated the prima donna's departure. Elle was finally snapped back to reality when she heard the directors enter and take seats near her. For once in several weeks they were on time for a rehearsal, but that was most likely due to their attempt in pacifying Estelle. Mister Bolster was not smiling, nor was he sweating; oddly the usual redness in his cheeks was gone, instead his face was pallid and wan, like he had seen a ghost. Mister Tremaine had just situated his spectacles on his pointy nose, and his somber expression was nothing abnormal considering the past couple days.

Maximilien had been waiting on stage for a bit, and finally Estelle chose to make her entrance. She strode onto the platform, shaking her long red hair behind her similar to how a horse shakes its tail, and nodded to the maestro to begin the music. The orchestra began playing while she took her spot opposite her partner. This time the soprano stood the whole time and when she was not singing it was impossible to miss the large grin that pulled at the sides of her face. The haughty smirk seemed to announce that, although everyone hated her, she got her way and therefore won the battle, so to speak. Elle felt sick to her stomach just looking at her, knowing that soon Isabel would be kicked out and Estelle would be practically calling the shots, threatening the directors in order to get them to do what she wanted them to do.

Elle soon grew tired of watching Estelle perform. She enjoyed attending rehearsals and being a part of the production, but the prima donna was not at all pleasant to watch. Not only did Elle not take pleasure in listening to her sing, now there was the irritating expression on the woman's face that made her angry. Estelle did not deserve the lead role; she did not deserve to be treated like some sort of queen. Sometime around the scene where Gertrude enters the stage and joins in on the singing, Elle decided to leave the rehearsal early. No one really seemed to notice as she got up from her seat and silently made her way up the aisle. The carpet dulled the sound of her heels against the ground and the swooshing of her skirts was barely audible above the music that was being played.

Without even considering where to go, Elle quietly proceeded on as if guided by some higher power. When she stopped walking she found herself once again in the small chapel at the back of the building. The room was completely still; the only sounds that were present came from her. The chapel was a place that she was likely to be found when she was not at the theatre or in her room. After her mother died that room seemed the most suitable place for her to go and pray. She would sing to her mother, occasionally talk to her and every time light a candle. The place some hopeful feelings for her, and it always reminded her of the strange yet wonderful dream that she had on the day of her mother's funeral. Secretly she wished each time she visited there that her dream would actually happen and that she would be taken to the 'world of music', as that apparition had called it.

The young woman took her place before the candles, kneeling down and striking a match. With one hand she lit a white candle and watched the flame slowly grow brighter. Soon it filled that part of the room, aiding the poor light that emanated from the stained glass window at the side of the room. After staring at the flame for a bit, Elle carefully laid out her skirts so that her legs would not touch the cold stone floor and she sat down. Her eyes closed as she began to pray. She prayed for her mother in heaven, her father who was spending his time in solitude, and Isabel who would not have a career in opera after the current production ended.

Several minutes later her eyelids fluttered open like butterfly wings, and her round eyes seemed to stare off into space. Her eyes did that often when she thought about her mother. Only when she sang did Elle appear to have the vitality that she used to have. When she was not singing her skin was pale, her eyes glossy, and her expression dream-like. That was how she was at that particular moment, as she sat there for some time. She did not notice how long she sat in that state; it was as if she was not in full possession of her mind. Then her mind stirred, her thoughts still on her mother, and Elle began to sing. Her voice was quiet at first, slowly gaining volume. She sang a hymn that would have been an appropriate selection for an actual funeral.

_"Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son;  
Endless is the victory, Thou o'er death hast won;  
Angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,  
Kept the folded grave clothes where Thy body lay."_

A piece of her dirty blonde hair fell out of the bun that was pinned on the back of her head. She absentmindedly pushed the strands of hair back behind her left ear and out of her way, while singing the entire time. Her eyes began to water up, but not enough to cry. Each note that left her mouth was beautiful yet tragic, carrying the sadness that is brought on by the loss of a loved one. The melancholy carried by the hymn was enough to bring tears to the eyes of anyone listening. When Elle sang she brought forth all of her stored up emotions, which made her singing even the more bittersweet.

"_Lo! Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb;  
Lovingly He greets us, scatters fear and gloom;  
Let the church with gladness, hymns of triumph sing;  
For her Lord now liveth, death hath lost its sting._

_No more we doubt Thee, glorious Prince of life;  
Life is naught without Thee; aid us in our strife;  
Make us more than conqu'rors, through Thy deathless love:  
Bring us safe through Jordan to Thy home above." _

The hymn came to an end and the room was once again quiet. Then Elle heard a noise behind her and instinctively she shot her head around to look. Someone had entered the room while she was singing, and she had been so caught up in the music that she had not even noticed their presence. He stood near the doorway, leaning against the wall, watching her interestedly. When she saw who it was she gathered her skirts and drew herself up from the floor, brushing the dust off of her dress. Now that she knew someone was there she wondered how long and, in a strange way, felt like she had been violated. It tends to be that way when people think that they are alone and then find that there was someone else there looking at them. Privacy is comforting and when it is infringed upon then it is like being spied on, all of the comfort and safety is gone.

"Hector!" Elle exclaimed when she recognized him, startled overall by his presence. She regained her composure, pushing all of her emotions back behind a wall of a stoic expression. Her green eyes glanced down at her hands and then back up at him, feeling uncomfortable. They had not seen each other in some time, every time that he came to visit her she would refuse to see him. That made this confrontation awkward. She did not know how he knew where to find her or why he was there in the first place. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he honestly answered, straightening himself up to look presentable. He had his hair brushed back and he was wearing a suit, the same way that he usually dressed. Moving his hands to his pockets, he took a couple steps closer towards her, entering further into the room. His blue eyes searched Elle's. "I ran into your friend while I was looking for you and she said that I would probably find you here."

"Well, here I am," Elle replied, not quite sure what to say to him. She felt exposed due to the fact that he overheard her singing for her mother, yet she did not have the courage to inquire as to how long he had been standing there.

"You sang beautifully," Hector commented sincerely. "I did not know that you could sing."

This compliment made Elle uneasy. The only people who have ever heard her sing were her mother and the Opera Ghost. It was enough that now Hector heard her, but the fact that she did not know he was listening while she was singing bothered her even more. She knew that he did not mean any harm, yet she still odd being around him. "Thank you," she responded in a low tone. Her eyes moved up and unexpectedly met his.

"How have you been?" he asked her, fiddling with something that was in his coat pocket. With his free hand he ran his fingers through his light brown hair. His eyes never left hers, like he was scared that if his eyes roamed away from her for even one second that she would be gone when he looked back. After not being able to see her for weeks it was understandable that he would be concerned that she would leave. "I have been worried about you."

"Fine," she answered. "You do not have to worry about me."

Hector attempted a smile, flashing his white teeth hesitantly, and he stepped closer to her. He offered out his right arm to her, almost doubting that she would accept it. "Have you eaten lunch yet? I am famished."

Elle looked at his arm and then back up at him. Like her father she had become reclusive to a certain point, and for that reason she was hesitant to accept his offer. She did feel bad that she had not seen him all that time, for they had been friends before. "I am not hungry, but I will join you if you want company," she replied, taking his arm. Together they left the gloomy dim lit chapel.

* * *

**A/N:** The song that Elle sings was written by Edmond Budry. Sorry about the wait, everything has been hectic. Tomorrow is the prom and I am a procrastinator so I waited until the last minute to do everything. Anyway, at least I got up the chapter before the weekend. I will not make you wait as long for the next chapter because I feel bad about taking so long with this one. So please review and thank you for reading. 

**popcornshrimp-** Thank you so much.

**Anri-** Thanks.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** Yes, I agree with you. Thanks.

**Kate-** Actually I do make a sort of outline before I write any story. Anyway, thank you for the compliment and I am glad that you like the story so far.

**Galasriniel-** lol, yes it was. I am a junior in high school and now we are down to nine weeks. When does your school year start? We started on the 2nd of September I believe and our last day is the 21st of June but no one really goes after they finish their finals.


	18. He Loved Her

**Chapter 18**

"Are you sure that you do not want anything to eat?" Hector asked, finishing up his meal. He took a sip of his wine, setting the glass carefully back down on the table and looking up to watch Elle shake her head no at his question. A few loose strands of blonde hair settled about her face. With his right hand Hector picked up his napkin and, wiping his face, placed it up on the table next to his nearly empty plate. He casually leaned back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on his lap. "How has the opera house been lately? I hear that your father has been letting my father handle most of the management since… you know."

"Actually the opera house is not doing so well," Elle answered, turning her gaze from her folded hands up to Hector's eyes. She took this question as an opportunity to bring up the recent controversial events. He was Mister Tremaine's son, so there was a chance that he had some influence with his father and if not then at least she could voice her concerns to somebody. "Have you spoken with your father recently?"

"No, why?" he inquired, the expression in his blue eyes turning from enthusiasm to apprehension. He instinctively sat up straight and waited for her answer. Truthfully Hector did not expect to hear a negative response to his inquiry. He caught the appearance of distress expressed by Elle's own emerald eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Yesterday at rehearsal Estelle sat on a chair that was covered with some type of glue. I don't know if you noticed or not, but Estelle has a bad temper and so she threw a massive fit over it. Apparently she threatened to quit and sing at another opera house, so your father agreed to all of her petty demands in order to convince her to stay. This morning he fired every single stagehand because no one would come forward and admit that they were responsible. From what I hear no one knows who actually did do it, and if that was not bad enough this is going to be Isabel's last production because of Estelle's jealousy. None of this would have happened if my father was still running things."

With a sigh Elle ceased talking and Hector thought about what she just told him. She obviously was upset over his father's decisions, which he had to admit did sound a bit unnecessary. Mister Bolster and his father seemed to go through a lot of trouble to keep their lead soprano. Although she could seem more a nuisance to the establishment than she was worth, he did see in the singer what the directors did. Hector remembered back when he first saw her in Carmen, when he first witnessed her stage presence and was captivated by her performance. He would have never known that she was actually a spoiled prima donna. Another example of how appearances can be deceiving.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Hector turned his attention back on his company. "Is there anything I can do to help? I can't speak for my father, I am sure that he has his reasons for the things that he does, but I can promise to talk to him for you- on your behalf. I don't think that there is much that I can do for the stagehands, yet there is a chance that I can save Isabel from being turned away from the opera house."

There was a flash of hope in her eyes as Elle struggled to give him a genuine smile. She was not sure if he would offer to do anything or not, but sure enough he did. It showed his true character that even though she had refused to see him many times that he would still be considerate and offer to help her. "That would be very kind of you."

For a minute they simply looked at each other, neither saying a word and both with different things on their minds. Elle was still ruminating about the situation at the opera house, while Hector had something else that was occupying his thoughts. His right hand that had been sitting on his lap moved and slowly found its way into the pocket on his suit jacket. It was again fiddling with something that rested inside of the compartment. Elle did not notice; her eyes were off staring into space when Hector's glanced back up to look at her.

"Elle, I have been meaning to ask you something," Hector began, drawing her attention back to him. He seemed a bit more anxious than usual, without the casual ease that first made Elle feel comfortable around him. "I am not sure what to say."

The young woman may have looked like she was paying close attention to him, but in all reality her mind was still off where it could not be reached by someone like Hector. She did not notice the tenseness in the man's voice, nor did she place any importance on his words. Instead she took the time that he used to take a breath to interrupt. "What time is it?"

Hector looked at her oddly, somewhat bothered that she would ask him that when he was in the middle of asking her something. With his free hand he brought out a gold watch that hung on a chain from his left pocket. His right hand was still in his right pocket. Quickly his eyes moved from her to the watch and seconds later he was slipping it back into its spot in his coat. Glancing back at Elle he answered, "It is about thirty after two."

"This was nice Hector," Elle replied, pushing back her chair and getting up from the table. "But I really should be getting back. I did not tell anyone where I was going and I am already late for afternoon rehearsals."

"Alright, we can talk later. I will take you back to the opera house. Let me go tell the driver to bring the carriage around to the front."

Elle waited for Hector to return and then together they walked out to the carriage. Hector helped her into the carriage before entering behind her and, with one call to the driver, they were headed back to _L'Opera Magnifique_. The two parted at the front entrance after Hector left a brief kiss on Elle's small hand and opened the door for her. She entered the building without looking back and as she walked off Hector turned around muttering to himself under his breath. Less than two minutes later the carriage and Hector were gone, leaving tracks behind as the only evidence of their presence.

As she ascended the carpeted steps Elle changed her direction. She decided that instead of going straight to her room she would pay her dear friend Nadia a visit. There were questions that she longed to have answered, so many things that she wanted to know. Fortunately she easily found her friend sitting in the ballet foyer with Meg and several other dancers. She quietly joined them, waiting for the girl who was speaking to stop. The first thing that she heard leave the girl's mouth was "The Phantom of the Opera", and she chose that moment to interrupt. Normally she would not interrupt anyone, but she found it curious that they happened to be discussing the one person, or thing, that she wanted to know about.

"Who is the Phantom of the Opera?" Elle asked, forcing every girl present to turn their heads and look at her with astonishment.

The girl who had been speaking was the one to answer her, but instead of giving her an actual answer she asked her another question in response. It seemed that everyone there was surprised that Elle would ask such a thing. "Are you telling me that you have not heard the stories?"

Elle shook her head no and Meg Giry stepped in. "The Phantom of the Opera is a very famous apparition. Several years ago, when I was a dancer here, when here was called _L'Opera Populaire_, he was held responsible for every odd occurrence that went on in the theatre. I am sure that you heard of the destruction of this place, how it was brought to ruins by a fire, but you do not know the whole story. It was a tragedy."

"What happened?" Elle asked. Meg was silent for a moment and then continued, but she spoke so low that everyone had to be completely quiet in order to hear her. Elle was not sure if she did that for effect, which was working, or because she thought that someone was listening.

"You may have heard of Christine Daae, she was one of my friends back then. She once told me that she was receiving singing lessons from someone who she called the Angel of Music. On the night of the fire the opera house was putting the production of a new opera, the Phantom's opera, named Don Juan Triumphant. Christine was singing the female lead. Well, during one of the songs the Phantom took over the lead opposite Christine and after they finished singing their duet Christine ripped off his mask and revealed his entire face. It startled everyone. Then the chandelier crashed down and the Phantom and Christine disappeared from the stage. See the Angel of Music was actually the Phantom. Around that time we found that the Phantom had murdered the singer whose place he had taken. Christine was engaged to this man named Raoul de Chagney, and after her disappearance he was quite upset. He was worried that something would happen to Christine. My mother offered to take him to the Phantom's lair, we were all sure that was where he took her, and I wanted to go along but she would not let me. So after they went off I lead another group down below. When we made it there he was gone, all we found was his mask. That was the last anyone had heard from him, of course until the opera house opened again."

"What happened to Christine?" Elle inquired, her attention entirely engaged by the story.

"The Phantom had let her and Raoul go. They ran off together that night and I have not heard from her since. I assume that they are married somewhere by now." Meg Giry answered, becoming silent again and letting the others whisper to each other.

"But why did he kidnap Christine?" a brunette asked, looking over at Meg.

"Isn't it obvious?" Nadia asked in response, replying for Meg. "He loved her."

"Now that he is back who knows what is going to happen," another girl said, causing all the girls to break off into their own little conversations. Nadia joined Elle at the side of the room, ignoring the several voices that were all speaking at once.

"He is all they talk about these days," Nadia commented, gesturing over at the other girls who were still chatting. "It is funny how people can be scared by something, or should I say someone, and yet fascinated at the same time."

Not long later Madame Giry came in to remind the girls that it was time for them to return to rehearsals. She scolded them for gossiping about the Opera Ghost, warning them that it was not smart to upset him. They stopped talking at her reprimand, quickly stretching and then heading off to the theatre. Elle joined them and walked with Nadia, glad to know that Estelle's part in the rehearsals was finished for the day so she left already to head home. The two girls separated when they reached their destination, Nadia heading for the stage and Elle heading for the audience. The directors were there by now and seemed a bit impatient to finish the rest of the rehearsals for that day. Due to their obvious eagerness to leave, the performers rushed to get ready and soon the scene was underway. Elle had some trouble paying attention, the story that she heard concerning her own instructor of music was consuming her mind. She could not quite see her teacher doing all those things that the girls said he did.

After the rehearsal was over Elle lingered in the theatre. The directors were the first to leave, as usual, but they seemed a little hastier in step then normal. For some time the directors had been edgy, and no one was quite sure why. Then the performers began to head off, first the musicians and then the singers, the dancers taking their time. When Elle was alone her eyes scanned the room. They first landed on the large stage and she realized that it had been weeks, maybe even months, since she stood alone on that platform. First making sure that no one was around to watch her, Elle took quick steps up and onto the stage.

Being on the stage again suddenly reminded her of the first time that she communicated with the Opera Ghost. She had naively thought that he was a construction worker, when in all reality he turned out to be the best singer that she had ever heard. At the time she was bedazzled by the new theatre and frightened by the voice that she could hear yet had no face to place with it. The stage held for Elle an emotion that she could not quite explain; it was similar to how she felt each time that she lovingly stroked the keys of her old piano before playing it. Her head filled with memories, Elle walked around the stage. In a way she had missed it, as a stable boy misses his favorite horse, but there was comfort in knowing that it was so near. She strolled in this way for a few minutes, not watching her steps and looking dreamily around her. Then unexpectedly she felt her feet trip over something, pulling her from her deep thoughts, and by the time she realized what was happening she fell through a hole.

Abruptly Elle was tossed down into some unknown place, landing unceremoniously on her backside. She scurried up from the ground as quickly as the dress weighing her down would allow. After regaining her balance and posture, she looked around. Soon it became apparent to her that she was in trouble. Not only was she unaware of her location, but the place was so dark that she could not see a thing. She stumbled around, feeling around for the wall. When she eventually found one, after almost tripping over her skirts several times, she used it to guide her, meanwhile calling out, "Help! Is anyone there? I need help!"

At last she thought that she saw some light in the distance. She sped up, full of hope of finding a way out of there, which she assumed was one of the cellars of the opera house, and sure that she was getting close to something. Then Elle saw the outline of a person. She yelled louder, to get their attention, and kept at the pace she was going. Eventually she caught up to them, yet could not see them well enough to know anything other than the fact that it was a man. "Can you help me? I'm lost."

The man moved closer to her, sending a shiver up her spine. She suddenly felt like asking him for help was a bad idea. Scared, she backed up, but he kept coming. The light of the lantern that he was holding with his right hand illuminated the man's face as he pulled his arm up and used the beam of light to look at her. His gruff face spread into a grin, baring black teeth and spaces where bad teeth had fallen out. He kept moving until he was close enough for her to feel his moist breath on her exposed skin, and Elle could smell the powerful scent of whiskey mixed with sweat and dirt. The combination made her cringe, and her stomach tied into a thousand knots. She had to do something, and fast.

Her first impulse told her to run, so Elle backed up a little farther and attempted an escape. She made it down a little way, but the man followed her and since her dress was heavy and her shoes uncomfortable it was easy for him to catch up. He grabbed her frail arm, smearing filth and grime on her sleeve, and clenched hard. Elle let out a long scream, not only because she was terrified but also because his grip was so tight. If he had longer nails than with the force he was pressing on her they would have gone through the fabric and into her skin. Her breathing grew heavier and her heart beat increased its speed tenfold. A strong sensation surged through her body and she felt weak.

Unable to look anywhere but his face, she examined it. Then suddenly it was like she was hit with some understanding, Elle recognized this man. He was unmistakably one of the stagehands, a scene shifter. She knew every face that worked on that stage, and his was one of them. Thinking harder about it now, she came to remember that he was one of the men who had been fired on that the previous day before rehearsal. After Estelle had threatened to leave the opera house for good, the directors decided to fire all of the stagehands that had been working that day. This man was one of them, and the loss of his job seemed to have taken a toll on his mind. The alcohol did not help either; that substance could force gentle men into violent rages, altering their brains so that they do commit acts that they would normally never even think of doing.

He pushed her against the rigid stone wall, snapping her roughly out of her reverie, and kept his strong hold on her. She began to cry, out of desperation and her vulnerability. Feeling completely helpless, she did not continue to struggle, but hoped that he would take pity on her and let her go. Apparently he had no intention of doing that, because he ruthlessly pressed her into the wall and held her there. He covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her screams and cries, but she continued weeping. To stop her he raised his free hand, and slapped her. There was a ring on his finger, which he stole no doubt, and when he hit her it cut the smooth skin of her head. She felt a sting, then the taste of blood as it trickled down her hair and landed on her lips. At this he laughed. The stench of his breathe again filled her nostrils, and she instinctively turned her head in an attempt to escape the horrid fumes.

Elle closed her eyes with childish fear, not wanting to find out what he was going to do to her next and too scared to see for herself, and then out of anxiety opened them again. She had barely opened her eyes when she heard a loud noise, something sturdy had hit the man on his head, and he fell unconscious onto the ground. She stood there looking at him for a minute in alarm, and a surge of relief swept through her body, causing her to give out one sharp cry. The combination of the trauma and the sudden shock overwhelmed her, and the next thing she knew everything went blank.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for reviewing, I was extremely pleased with the number of reviews. This one is a bit longer than usual, next update should be by this weekend. Once again thank you all for reading and please review! 

**Kate-** Thank you, that means a lot. And I did enjoy the prom, it was fun.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** You shall see, thanks for the review.

**Galasriniel-** That explains it then. Thank you, and about your questions- you will see (or more like read) soon enough.

**Asia1st-** Sorry that you think my chapters are getting boring, but this is how I write. All of the little details are important to the story. Thanks for the review.

**Anri-** I hope you have fun at yours too. Mine was definitely fun. Anyway, thanks for the compliment, I'll try.

**TheTrinityJ-** Thank you. Your story sounds interesting, did you start writing it yet?

**Kiwi Anime-** That's ok, I know what you mean. Thanks for the advice, I wouldn't want to bore my readers.


	19. Monster

**Chapter 19**

Erik, widely known as simply the Opera Ghost or the Phantom of the Opera, was heading out from under his opera house to get some supplies. As he was drifting down the dark passages, all well-known to him like the back of his hand, he heard a scream. It was high-pitched and feminine, not like a shrill that would force people to cover their ears, but more a call of distress from a fair maiden. He immediately turned around, partly annoyed at the disruption of his task and partly curious as to who it was yelling and why they were so far from the light of day.

He easily and swiftly found his way to the source of the scream, slightly surprised at the scene that awaited him. In the darkness of the passageway which led up into opera house, there was a grungy drunkard pushing a young woman up against the stone wall. The strong familiar smell of liquor wafted over to Erik as he made his way there. The man was ruthless, and blatantly ignoring the girl's pleas for him to leave her alone. He could hear her crying softly beneath the dirty hand of the drunk. Erik's eyes, though well-adjusted to the dark from living down there for so long, could not see the face of either person only their forms in the distance outlined by the glow of a lantern.

Normally he would not want to get involved in other people's affairs unless it had something to do with his opera house, but somewhere inside his broken heart he felt sympathetic for that young woman who was being abused. For this reason he approached the man from behind quietly, like a cat- a talent that he had perfected long ago, and with one swift motion of his fist, knocked him out cold. The man felt to the hard ground with a thud, and the girl let out a cry of relief before fainting from the stress.

Without hesitation, Erik caught her fragile form with his strong arms. He lifted her up and held her for a second, moving some of her hair so that he could see her face. Suddenly he recognized her and was shocked at the coincidence. It was the girl that he had been giving singing lessons to! That he did not expect, and he had no idea of why she would be wandering around down there in the first place. She must have accidentally fallen through a trap-door or something; those stagehands could be forgetful at times. Also he did overhear them being fired, so something could have been overlooked. On closer inspection he saw that she had a cut on the upper right side of her forehead, and it was bleeding. The crimson blood was dripping down the side of her pretty face.

His first instinct was to take her back to the opera house and leave her there for someone to find her, but after seeing the injury he changed his mind. Forgetting his reason for leaving his underground lair in the first place, Erik headed back to his headquarters. Pulling back a black curtain and entering one of the side rooms, he laid her down on an extra bed that he stole from the props. He left her alone for a second and returned juggling the objects necessary to dress her wound, which he did delicately like if he made one wrong move than she would be done for. When he was finished and satisfied he left again, and returned to his musical realm.

He had not thought of bringing her down there again, but he wanted to make sure that she was all right before he brought her back to the others. Her wound was not that bad, but it still needed to be treated quickly in order to prevent infection. Elle had only fainted, therefore it was only a matter of time before she would wake up and he would take her back. As he took a seat at his organ, Erik wondered if she remembered when he brought her there before and they sang a wonderful duet. Her blind faith had let him lead her away from the light. She was so trusting, so young, so much like…

"No, I will not think of her," he murmured to himself, shuffling through the new score that he had been working on. Erik was having difficulties finishing the particular piece, there was just something missing. For weeks he had worked on completing it, but none of the melodies that he came up with fit the right way. His elegant hands hovered over the keys of the organ for a couple seconds before he remembered that Elle was asleep in the next room. He did not want to wake her by playing, for that was bound to happen once he started. Picking up his sheets of music he moved over to his desk and set them down in a pile. With his right hand he pulled a piece of paper from the side of his desk and placed it in front of him. Seconds later his left hand slowly picked up a rude quill and dipped it into a small bottle of red ink before beginning to write carefully on the parchment.

_My favorite directors,_

_The performance is coming up and I am sure that you have learned by now that I do indeed exist. Do not forget to leave box five open, as Monsieur D'aubigne has been kind enough to do for me before, and remember that my month's payment is due. Twenty thousand francs. Have Madame Giry leave it for me in my box before the show._

_Good luck gentlemen._

_-O.G._

As he finished, Erik set the quill down and began to fold the parchment. With his free hand he picked up a holder containing red wax and held it over one of the lit candles for a moment. Then, tilting the holder, he slowly poured a certain amount of wax on the letter before setting it back down. Quickly Erik pressed a mold over the wax, creating a red skull seal on the paper. All of this was done in a routine fashion, as he had written many letters like this one before. The seal was his trademark, and personally he thought that it added just the right touch.

His keen ears heard footsteps coming from the next room. Normally that would cause him to rise to his feet and investigate, but Erik knew that it was only Elle awaking from her slumber. She had not been asleep that long, maybe an hour, and she was probably walking around in order to find out where she was. His eyes moved from the black curtain to his desk. He put away the letter, making a mental note to leave it for the directors the next day.

Elle had woken up in an unfamiliar bed. Her eyes took time to focus in the dark, but soon she was able to see that she was in a bedroom that was not hers. Her mind tried to concentrate, tried to figure out what was going on, but the last thing she remembered was being on the stage of the theatre. She looked around, hoping to find some explanation, and her eyes landed upon a black curtain. It seemed to be the only way out of the room, so she approached it and pulled it aside. Before her was a scene out of her imagination. The room that the passage led to was lit by many candles, making it easier for her to see. There was a lake, with a little boat, stacks of papers, an organ with opened sheet music, and a desk- with a man sitting in front of it.

She moved further into the room, but stayed closer to the wall. Her eyes stayed on the man. All she could see was his back and she hesitated before speaking. Elle was not sure who he was or where she was, which scared her, but at the same time she felt like she was having a strange case of déjà vu. "Where- where am I?"

Erik turned in his chair after hearing her finally speak, even though he was aware of her presence the entire time. She stood several feet away from him, holding her hands before her. Her dirty blonde hair was down and disheveled, framing her face and covering her bandage. "I see you are awake," he replied. By her question it was apparent that she did not remember being down there before. "This, my dear, is the realm of music."

Since he turned his face to look at her, Elle was finally able to get a look at the man who was sitting there. He had a distinctive white mask covering one side of his face and his dark hair was slicked back. For some reason he looked familiar to her eyes, and so did this realm of music. Even though she was not quite sure where she had seen him before, she was positive of who it was due to the voice. "Master, it is you! I can tell it is you by your voice, although I have only seen you in my dreams. You, you live here?" she asked meekly, looking around more closely at her surroundings. "Where exactly is here?"

He laughed softly, rising from his seat at the desk. "Beneath the opera house. Do not fear me, I will not harm you. Come closer; let me check your head."

Her hand instinctively shot up and lightly touched her forehead, and she felt bandaging on the upper right side of her head. Elle was not frightened of her teacher, but she was uneasy about the fact that she could not remember what happened or why she had a bandage on her head. She put her hand back down, without following his instructions and walking to him, and asked, "What happened? I don't remember anything."

"You were attacked and you fainted," he answered, taking small steps closer to her. She did not move, letting down her defensives and allowing him to inspect her wound. After he was sure that everything was in order his hand lingered for a second barely half an inch from her skin, but he sharply pulled away. Putting some space between them he asked, "Did you sleep well?"

Elle nodded, wondering how long she had been asleep. Now that she was aware of her wound it began to make its presence known, a slight throbbing was coming from the spot that she knew was bandaged. She wanted to know who had attacked her, but she was too scared to ask. The fact that anyone would attack her in the opera house gave her an eerie feeling, like her home was no longer safe. As her mind pondered these things her eyes studied her instructor's face. She had seen him before, but she had thought that it was a product of her imagination. Apparently Elle had been wrong, for now he was here in front of her, living and breathing like an average human. He was no ghost, he was a man, and she was standing in his home.

Yes, he was a man, and he had been responsible for haunting that building for years. Elle was not sure if the story that Meg Giry had told her was true or not, but here he was before her. She could not bring herself to picture him as a murderer, yet at the same time, if it were true, she would feel bad for him. The way she saw the story, if he had done those things, was that he probably did them out of love for the woman, but in the end he lost her regardless. This man held not only a secret behind his mask, but several in his mind.

"Master-" she began, after a period of silence.

Erik interrupted her. It did not seem right for her to be referring to him as that when he was not giving her a singing lesson. Besides, now that she saw him as a real man it was time for her to know his real name. "Don't call me that when we are outside of lessons. Here I am simply Erik."

"Erik," she corrected, finding it odd calling him that name for the first time. "I would like to ask you something."

He immediately knew what that question was going to be about. Of course he was aware that it would be only an amount of time before his pupil would get up the courage to finally ask him. It was human nature to be curious, but despite that fact he felt his muscles tighten. Her face was already asking what her words were not. She wanted to know his secret; she wanted to know the truth. This angered Erik, which was actually not that hard to do. He had hoped for things to remain as they were, but it was obvious that change was once again on its way.

Erik was fully aware of the chorus girls who were constantly gossiping about him. As it was his nature to observe it was theirs to gossip, and gossip they did. Yet he had hoped that Elle would not listen to them or be pulled in by their mindless chattering. He had thought that perhaps she would be different, but here she was; ready to break his one rule just to find out for herself.

"Go ahead," he spat viciously, his voice gradually heightening from an inside speaking voice to a furious shout. Elle did not understand the sudden change in temper, plus she was unaccustomed to people screaming at her. "Ask me! I can see it in your curious little eyes!"

"Did you- did you really do those things that they said you did?" her timid voice eventually quavered. Her body stood still, with her eyes widened and alert, as if she were afraid if she made any sudden movements that he would pounce on her like a lion does its prey.

"Yes," A terrible smile spread over his face. "Most of it anyway. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm a monster?"

Elle did not reply. He began to take small steps, advancing towards her. In her fear due to the fire in his eyes she started to take little, almost unnoticeable, steps backward. This continued until she realized that she was up against a wall and that she had no place to go. Even if she did run she stood no chance of escaping, Elle was clueless as to the way out of that place. The tunnels were confusing, and against a man who had made his home down there it would be impossible to get away from him. So, instead of further resistance, she held herself against the cold wall stiffly and did not make a move.

Erik continued on in his wild rage, blindly ignoring the look on the young woman's face. He knew that she was terrified of him and that he held all of the cards in this game. She was helpless against him and he was fuming uncontrollably. "Yes, I am a monster!" he violently tore the white mask off the side of his face, revealing his deformity, and threw it on the ground. "See! You wanted to know, and here you go! Look at me, remember this face. Such a lovely sight, isn't it?"

He waited for the inevitable; a response of horror, for her to recoil and wince in fear, but it never came. Instead she stared at him, not with pity or fear, but with something akin to empathy. Her eyes were on the verge of tears, yet she kept his gaze unwavering. Her mouth opened, letting out a little more than a whisper. "I am sorry, Erik."

This reaction confused him, he expected her to immediately turn away so that she would not have to look at his ugliness and naturally repulsive looks. Not knowing how to respond to that, his hostility was still incensed. He was finally only inches from her and could hear her heart beat rapidly. His gloved hand reached up, grabbing her left arm and further pinning her to the wall. "I don't want your pity," he growled in her ear, tightening his grasp on her arm. Due to his height, he towered over her by several inches and she had to lift her face up to kept her eyes on his.

He down looked on at the poor shocked girl with malice, yet inside he knew that the anger burning within him was not directed towards her. It was for the world that had cruelly mistreated him, turning him into a cold man who was forced to live underground in a life of solitude. The lack of human contact and interaction took a toll on his personality, and his mood was disturbingly and dangerously volatile. At the frightened and injured look in her eyes Erik slowly began to calm down, realizing that he still had a strong grip on her arm. His long fingers released her and seconds later her right hand shot up to rub the spot that he had clenched. Even minutes later the red mark from his hand was still there, standing out vividly against her pale skin.

Erik backed off, lightly picking up his mask from the floor before moving to the other side of the room and falling into a chair. He kept his back to her, putting the mask gently back on his face. It was the perfect fit, and since his face so was accustomed to the feel of the smooth leather he felt naked without it on. Now she had seen the side of him that he always struggled to hide, the pure anger and resentment that filled his core. Once again he was reminded of Christine; she had seen that side of him too. The thought of her made him shudder as he held back tears. How he had missed her those years, how she had haunted his dreams for nights on end. She was responsible for the throbbing in his heart, for the emptiness that not even his music could fill. He was sure that he could never love again, never reach out to someone for comfort, not after what happened with the only woman he had ever felt that way about. He was in pieces, and the memories of her came flooding back to him. Forgetting that Elle was still in his presence, he let the beads of tears forming in the corners of his eyes to fall as his head fell into his hands.

The man was reminded again of the young woman's company when he felt a hand rest delicately on his shoulder. He quickly wiped his face, not wanting her to see him in tears, but it was too late. Elle had already witnessed his breakdown and instead of taking the chance to run away she walked over to comfort him. The fear had vanished from her and the look of compassion again filled her round emerald eyes. She did not say a word, but her eyes spoke for her.

Not sure how to react, and not wanting his pupil to see him vulnerable any further, he jumped out of the chair. Her hand brushed off his shoulder and fell down beside her. She was startled at the sudden movement, but simply stood there watching him. He could feel her eyes burning into his back as they followed his every movement. He turned to look at her, and struggled to regain his composure. "I must be getting you back."

She obediently followed him to the boat and accepted his hand getting into it when he offered it to her. They both got in without another word, and he pushed off the ground. He rowed them to the other side of the lake, and helped her get out. Elle followed closely behind him most of the way, silent except for the sound of her shoes against the floor and the rustling of her skirts. Erik did not need a lantern to guide them, but he held one in his right hand anyway, holding it up to light the path in front of them. They swiftly swept through a maze of dark, damp tunnels. The girl was finding it hard to keep up with his long strides; she had to break into a jog to stay by his side. At one point she even almost slipped, but grabbed hold of his muscled arm to keep her steady.

When she regained her balance she quickly let go of him, aware that he was in a testy mood. Neither of them made a sound as they walked. They continued on in this fashion until they were back in front of the hidden passageway that led to her bedroom. For some reason it was not alarming to her that he had easy access to her room, she had known that for a while. How else had he gotten the music scores and the letter in there? Besides, even though he had shown her how violent he could get, she was not entirely terrified of him. There was something that reassured her about Erik, she was aware that he could love and be compassionate even if she had never seen him that way. He had looked so helpless, like a little child, when he was weeping before her and that washed away any fear that she had of him.

Next thing Elle knew she was in her bedroom and the secret passage had closed behind her. She was completely alone and she turned around, feeling the wall. Her fingers ran over the smooth surface, unable to find any cracks. The passageway was so well hidden that no one would ever be able to tell that a piece of the wall could pivot open unless they saw it with their own eyes. There was no way to open it from her side, it had to be done on the hidden side, which was close to impossible to find.

Then she left the wall, her mind was swirling with thoughts. All she could picture in her mind was the unfortunate man's eyes, which held all the suffering of the world in them. They could turn from cold and unfeeling to fiery and passionate in less than an instant; one second blazing with fury and the next flowing with tears. He was the most emotional man that she had ever met.

After changing her clothing Elle collapsed on her bed. She was physically and mentally exhausted; the excursion to his hidden lair took all the energy out of her. The ache of the injury to her head came back to her, reminding her of her wound. Her hand gently caressed the bandage that Erik had carefully placed on her forehead, as if simply touching it would help stop the throbbing. Unfortunately it did nothing but make it hurt worse, so she put her hand back down. At last sleep took hold of her body, finally allowing her to escape the agony of her head and the thoughts of the Opera Ghost.

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**A/N:** Thank all of you lovely readers for reviewing! It is good to know that so many people actually read this. I hope I did not make you all wait too long for the update. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! 

**Galasriniel-** lol, thank you. Sorry you are not feeling well. Get better!

**fracturedreality04-** Of course, thanks for reviewing.

**Anri-** Thanks for the review. Speaking of which, how was your prom? Hope you had a great time.

**RainsPhantom-** Thank you, hope I didn't make you wait too long.

**sexysarah-** Thank you.

**Angie-smalltowngirl-** Thanks for reviewing, glad you like.

**Kiwi Anime-** Thanks for pointing that out to me. I an aware that something like that does occur in other fics, but when I was planning the story I hadn't really read that many so I wasn't thinking of that when I made the outline. Anyway, thanks again for the tips and I will watch my word usage.


	20. The Predicament

**Chapter 20**

Elle slept longer than usual, emerging from her bed in late morning. A pang on her head reminded her again of her wound. Sitting down before her vanity mirror, she delicately redressed the wound, cleaning it before replacing the bandaging. Her mind was still tired, yet it went over the previous night in her mind. She had been attacked, but that was not what was consuming her thoughts. Her teacher had helped her, he had bandaged her wound, and he had told her his name, Erik. Erik. That name still felt strange to think about. He was a real man, with a real name, and with real feelings. If only she hadn't questioned him! Now Elle was not sure if she would ever see him again, and that would be the real punishment. She admitted to herself that she deserved it, but she hoped that he would be able to forgive her for her impertinence. It was not her place to question him and it was his right to cease the lessons. But how she would miss them!

With her hands she began to pull her hair up, but then on seeing the bandage she let the blonde locks fall back down. If Elle left her hair down then it could cover the dressing. Then she got up from the seat, pulling a dress out of her wardrobe and laying it on her bed. She changed from her nightgown into an off-white dress and slipped on a pair of shoes. The sky told her the time, letting her know that she was late in rising. There was no one to notice though, for her father often breakfasted alone if at all. Her stomach was not hungry, so she had no need of stopping at the dining room. Rehearsal for that day was to be held in the afternoon, therefore she had not missed anything.

Without having anything to occupy her time, Elle decided that it was time to visit her father. He was still grieving, and therefore was difficult to have a conversation with, so although she wished to confide in him she knew that he was not in his mind to advise. It was a shame that her mother's death happened when it did for the management of the opera house, in her opinion, was much better in his hands than the directors. The directors took advantage of their new power and began handling everything on their own without conferring with him. Elle thought it was time that her father knew what was going on in his opera house, even if he was still not ready to get back to work.

This resolution led her to leave her room, locking it behind her, and head off in the direction of his office. On her way she passed by her mother's room and slowed her footing, almost forgetting her purpose. She had not entered her mother's room since her death and was still not ready to. So Elle walked on, eventually making it to the management wing. As she approached the office of her father she was stopped by noises she heard across the hall. There was shouting coming from the office of the directors. "How could she just disappear?"

It was the voice of Mister Tremaine. Elle soon forgot about the purpose behind her trip as her interest was engaged by the yelling. She was not sure who the director was talking about, and she wanted to find out. After all she was the owner's daughter and worked on the show, she had a right to know what was going on. Therefore Elle turned her direction and headed straight for the directors office. She knocked before entering, and after she did enter she quickly scanned the room. Mister Bolster was sitting in a chair by his desk, Mister Tremaine was pacing back and forth, occasionally raising his arms in the air, and Hector was lounging in an armchair at the side of the room.

Tremaine did not pay her any attention when she entered. Instead he continued on pacing and ranting. Bolster watched him walk, his eyes moved from left to right with Tremaine's movements. "What are we going to do? We have no star! We will have to cancel tomorrow's show. All of that money will have to be returned! And to think, we have a full house!"

"What happened?" Elle asked, confused as to what was going on. She was only gone one night and the directors had yet again another crisis, or at least it seemed that way by the way that Tremaine was raving. She looked around from man to man, but the only one who acknowledged her presence was Hector. "What is going on?"

Hector immediately glanced up at her as she came into the room. Bolster sat still, he stopped watching Tremaine but was now staring at his desk. When Elle asked those questions Hector opened his mouth to answer her, but was rudely interrupted. "It is-"

"Estelle, she is gone!" Tremaine exclaimed to Elle, interrupting his own son. He was in such an excitable mood that he did not notice his son was about to answer her, and it was right when Hector was that he realized Elle had asked a question.

"What do you mean, she is gone?" Elle asked, not fully comprehending. If it was true, and Estelle was indeed gone, then it was a moment for celebration, not distress. But alas, the directors liked the soprano and her disappearance strongly affected the performance that was set for the following day. She was the lead role and the show could not go on without someone taking her place. The question was why Estelle 'was gone', as they said. She most likely would not have left on her own without some warning. Besides she liked being on stage and would not take off so close to a performance. This was indeed strange news.

"She disappeared," Hector replied, offering Elle a chair to sit in. She accepted it and he continued. "There was a special rehearsal scheduled just for her this morning and she did not show. That is not like her. No one knows where she went and she did not leave a message of any sort. Not even her attendants know where she went."

He was right, that was definitely not like her. Estelle loved hearing herself sing and it was her idea, and insistence, to have those private rehearsals with the directors. Elle was not sure what to think. The directors, obviously, wanted their star back, yet it was possible for the opera to go on without her. They actually had some performers with talent who could hold the show on their own. Estelle was never that good anyway, but Elle realized many people did not admit to that. She sat in her chair by Hector, mindlessly adjusted her skirts as everyone sat in silence except for Tremaine, who was still pacing the floor vigorously.

Then after several minutes of this the door burst open. Everyone looked up from their silent reveries to see who it was that had the audacity to disturb them. Standing in the doorway was Madame Giry. Her face was calm and reposed, highly contrasting against Tremaine's troubled expression, as she entered the room. Not a hair was out of place in her gray bun, yet it was apparent that she had come there in a hurry. Her eyes immediately landed on the directors and, after closing the door behind her, she spoke directed towards them. Her voice displayed urgency, yet at the same time composedness, when she addressed them. "Monsieurs, Mademoiselle Estelle is back."

Mister Tremaine stopped walking mid-step. He stood as still as a statue and looked at Giry. This news was good indeed! But now he was not worried about her absence, but angry that the prima donna put them in such a panic. Being in the high strung mood that he was in it was easy for him to go from concerned to irritated in less than a second. When Giry stated that Estelle was back his eyebrows shot up and he demanded answers. "Where did she say she was?"

"She did not say a thing. Her attendants say that she has not spoken since her return," Madame Giry answered, keeping her cool despite the attitude of the director. Bolster looked up from his desk to glance at Giry, quietly watching the conversation between his partner and the woman. Elle and Hector were doing the same except from the opposite side of the office. Giry did not seem to notice anyone else in the room for all of her attention was on Mister Tremaine.

"Well, as long as she sings tomorrow that does not matter," he replied in his authoritative manner. He always spoke to Madame Giry in that way, as if he was above her. She always pretended not to notice and if she did she did not mention it to anyone.

"You do not understand me Monsieur Tremaine, she will not be singing tomorrow or in the near future," Madame Giry responded, explaining further. "I have seen her myself, just now that was where I came from, and she simply sits there and stares into space with a blank expression on her face. I do not know what is wrong with her, but she makes no human interaction of any kind. It is almost as if she if afraid to even open her mouth."

"She has to sing, we have her under contract!" Tremaine stated in a shout. He could not believe or entirely understand what he was hearing. How could his star soprano do this to them? It was an outrage! She signed a contract to sing for them and now she was backing out the day before the opening night of Romeo et Juliette. It was unacceptable behavior, even for a prima donna who was used to getting her way. Without her the show could not go on. These thoughts flew through his mind as he collapsed in the chair behind his desk.

"You will have to find someone else to fill her place," the woman said in response. She still stood by the door, holding her hands before her. Her answer seemed the most obvious, but to the directors it was almost impossible.

"There is no one else!" he exclaimed, leaning his elbows on his desk and holding his head with his hands. His glasses were about slipping off of his pointed nose, but this time he made no effort to fix them or push them back.

Hector sat up straight in his chair, finally interjecting in the conversation. His youthful mind was thinking over a way to fix this situation for his father and the opera house. To him this problem was not unsolvable and it seemed ridiculous to have to cancel a performance because one person decided to break their contract. A thought hit him. He looked up and across the room at the directors as he asked, "What about her understudy?"

Mister Bolster turned his eyes from his partner to the youth that spoke out. During this entire time he had remained silent, worried over what was going on. He did not look himself, for his was normally a jovial and good-natured man and now he was frowning instead of smiling. Tremaine's serious nature seemed to have rubbed off on him during the past several weeks. He answered Hector in a droning tone, almost as if he were uninterested in solving this predicament. "She has no understudy. That was part of our agreement."

Hector went back to thinking and Bolster went back to sitting quietly. Elle eyed the room, observing the people around her. Madame Giry seemed about ready to leave, but she simply stood there as if waiting for someone to dismiss her. After a couple minutes of silence Tremaine lifted his head from the desk and asked rhetorically to the entire room, "What will we tell the public? That a cat has caught our prima donna's tongue?"

Elle was thinking about what they should do the entire time. She took the moment after Tremaine asked his questions to state her own opinion of the matter. The situation did not seem that difficult to her and, although normally she would not expect them to use her advice, the directors only thought of canceling the show and therefore needed it. Her voice caused everyone to turn and look at her. "Excuse me Monsieurs, but I think I have a solution."

"And what might that be, young Mademoiselle?" Tremaine asked, wondering what it was that she had to say.

"Let Isabel sing Estelle's part," she answered. It seemed the best course of action to her. Since the opera house opened she thought that Isabel was the better singer when compared with Estelle, and she deserved the lead role a lot more. "She is talented and she knows the songs."

"Then who, might I ask, will take the role of Romeo's page?" he asked in reply.

Elle had not thought of that when she chose Isabel as the proper person to take Estelle's place, but she answered, "There must be someone around here who will be able to."

For another moment there was silence, but then Hector broke it with an exclamation. "I have a brilliant idea!" he shouted. Then he turned in his seat to face Elle, who was sitting next to him. "Elle, you can play the part of Stephano."

"She sings?" Mister Bolster asked out of curiosity on hearing Hector's idea. Both directors gazed at her, wondering how she could sing and them not know about it. Since they never heard her sing they found his solution a bit odd.

"No," Hector replied, getting excited at his idea. To him it was wonderful and he was excited for Elle. He still remembered the song she sang when he had caught her in the chapel. Her voice was the most beautiful voice that he had ever heard. "She does more than sing, she invokes the beauty and grace of the angels."

"You speak very highly of her," Bolster responded.

"You have not heard her sing," Hector stated, expressing that only those who have heard her sing truly know what he is talking about. He did not wait to ask Elle though, he assumed that she would take the part willingly.

Tremaine got up from his desk, his eyes on Elle. He had cooled down and was ready to get things underway. "Why didn't you tell us that we had a singer in our mists? No matter, but the show must go on as scheduled! There is no way that we can cancel it now; we have a full house tomorrow. You must take the part of Stephano."

Elle looked up at him from her seat. She had not voiced her opinion about this idea when Hector mentioned it, but now she found her chance. She had never sung before in public and felt that it was a bad idea. Actually she hadn't even liked the fact that Hector was able to hear her sing. "But monsieur, I have never been in an opera before."

"Then this will be your first. Come, come, we don't have all day. Let's get you to the dressing room and ready for rehearsal. Then we can hear how good you really are," Tremaine replied, looking from Elle to his son. He was skeptical about her talent because, he figured, since she lived there they would have heard her by now if she was really any good, but he still decided to give her a chance. He trusted his son's judgment and was ready to give the girl a part if that meant the opera would not have to be cancelled and all the money returned.

"Don't worry Elle," Hector whispered to her after noticing the expression on her face. "You have what it takes and you will be great."

Madame Giry was instructed to take Elle over to the dressing room and prepare her for rehearsals. Elle, after much consideration, finally relented and followed the woman out of the office. She was nervous about singing for an audience, but if it meant the success of her father's opera house then she would do it. Plus she was also happy that the directors accepted her idea of letting Isabel take the role of Juliette, it would be a great opportunity for her to shine and she would be able to do much more with the role than Estelle ever would.

The two women found Isabel in one of the dressing rooms and Elle was there to see her expression when she was told that she was going to take the lead. First she inquired as to why Estelle would not be performing, as a considerate person must, and once it was explained to her she expressed her excitement. She was also worried about singing in her first lead role, as Elle was in singing in her first opera, but that was to be expected.

Elle already knew the role that she was to be taking because she had been to every rehearsal and knew the entire opera by heart. That was why she seemed to be the most perfect candidate for filling in an empty role. Rehearsal was to start in half an hour, and people would hear Elle sing for the first time. She was actually going to be in an opera! At the time she did not think of it, but she was going to fulfill her childhood dream.

The stage was waiting for her.

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**A/N: **Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I am glad that it seemed many of you enjoyed the last chapter. Erik will be coming up again shortly. Anyway, please take some time to review and thanks again for reading. 

**RainsPhantom-** lol, I know what you mean. Glad you liked the chapter.

**Angie-smalltowngirl-** Thank you.

**fracturedreality04-** lol, yes he did.

**Kchan88-** Thanks.

**Anri-** That's great. I'll try, thanks for reviewing.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** lol! Thanks.


	21. Apologies

**Chapter 21**

Since Estelle was not well liked by her fellow artists, the new change in cast was widely accepted. There were many who agreed with Elle on the fact that Isabel would do a better job with the role of Juliette than Estelle would have and this brought a relief to some. Maximilien, for one, was glad that he no longer had to work with the prima donna. Estelle was a person who always tried to hog the spotlight, but that was not the main problem. In the scenes that they were rehearsing together the duets were lacking. The Romeo did not get along with his partner off the stage, which in a way affected the performance. Isabel was on good terms with him; therefore it would be easier for them to work together. The others were tired of having to put up with the whims of that spoiled woman and were pleased to hear that the directors had come to their senses. Some did not even care to ask why Estelle would not be performing so far into the production, even though it was odd for a singer to quit the day before the opening show.

Elle had attended rehearsal with the insistence of Madame Giry, and she was witness to Isabel's first shot as lead. Maximilien was helping her along, but she did well considering that she had her part changed that day. The two went through scenes together smoothly, with hardly any problems. The directors were beginning to feel less strained when they saw that the singer would be able to fill the role properly. They still had their concerns, but it was comforting for them to know that it would not be necessary to cancel the performance. That would mean upset customers and money being returned, not to mention the waste of all that time of practice.

When it was Elle's turn to sing her new appointed solo she hesitated. Many people were surprised to see her on stage, unaware that she sang. She had never actually taken part in any of the operas that were produced, only helped in other ways. Now she was to have a role, however small, and to be on the stage with the others. This made them eager to hear her sing, as they were all wondering how good she was. If she was good then it would not make sense to them of why she would hide such a talent when her father owns the opera house and she could easily have herself placed in a part. The directors felt the same way, but were ready to listen. Hector was sitting with them in the audience and from his seat he urged her on with a smile of confidence in her abilities.

After a moment or so, the music starting up again, she slowly parted her lips. With one deep breathe she began, aware that everyone was looking in her direction. As she sang she closed her eyes, not wanting anything or anyone to distract her. Since Elle never sang in front of so many people at once she had a new feeling permeating her being. Her entire body was full of knots and tingles, her face was warm and her stomach fluttered, yet her throat let slip notes of silver and gold. Partially due to her anxiety and partly due to her reservations, Elle did not unleash her full potential. Nevertheless she sang astonishingly well to those who were listening. The stage gave her more confidence and her volume gradually increased, filling out into the auditorium seating.

Once Isabel heard the young woman sing she wondered why it was her that was given the lead instead of Elle although she knew that it took more than a voice to be the lead. The soprano tended to overlook her own talents because of her personal insecurities. The other performers present were astounded when they found that Elle actually could sing. They had so many questions, sparking a new topic for future gossip.

Hector was delighted to hear Elle sing again. After the first time he heard her he was not sure if he would ever hear her again because of the way she reacted. He noticed that she was a bit uncomfortable finding him there, but he did not think that she would have any problems taking the small role that he suggested for her to take. His father was sitting in the seat next to him, so it was easy for him to turn and see the reaction of the directors. Bolster had regained his signature jovial smile, which he had not donned for some time, and Tremaine seemed to be joining his partner in this show of contentment. Whatever uncertainties the two men had were now washed away by the reassuring rehearsal. The replacements had proved their ability to handle their new roles and the directors had little to worry about at the present time. Before Estelle's mysterious disappearance they had hired a new set of stagehands, so most everything was already taken care of. That night they both could rest easy.

After the rehearsal Elle was walking backstage on her way to her bedroom. As she was passing she was stopped by several people who commented on her performance, one of which asked her if she had any training. She answered yes, but did not go into details, explaining that she must get going. On her way out into the hall Elle walked by a group of gossipers, standing around in a huddle. They were speaking loud enough for her to overhear their conversation, even though she was not trying to. She was able to hear several lines before the door closed behind her and she was out of hearing range.

"Did you hear what happened to Estelle?" one person asked loudly. "I heard that she vanished from the opera house and that when the directors sent someone to her house she was not there either. No one knows where she went."

"What does that matter?" someone responded. "The point is that now that she is back she is too scared to sing."

"Estelle would never be too scared to sing."

"Normally she would not, but not if the Opera Ghost got to her…"

Erik. She had not thought of that. What if Erik had something to do with Estelle's sudden strange behavior? But he simply could not be the one behind it! Elle was not sure exactly what time in the morning Estelle went missing, but she did know that she was down below with Erik during the evening. If it was him then he would have had to do it while Elle was sleeping in her bedroom. She did know that Erik was no fan of Estelle's, so there was a chance that it was him. Either way it what still a mystery concerning what happened to the prima donna that would put her in such a state of silence. The opera rats, of course, would be quick to blame the incident on the Phantom of the Opera as they had done before. This was nothing new.

Elle made her way to the staircase and slowly ascended the steps. She was tired and, for the first time in awhile, she realized that she was hungry. Her appetite had decreased significantly ever since the death of her mother. Meals were just not the same without all three of them and her father did not provide much company. This evening, however, she would eat to satisfy her growling stomach. That was her plan as she marched down the hall to her door.

After unlocking the door she entered the room and closed the door behind her, placing the key down on a small table at the side of her room. Elle barely had a chance to sit down on her sofa when her eye caught sight of something on top of her piano. It immediately captured her attention for she had received something similar to it during her first weeks stay there. First she glanced around the rest of the room and then she rushed over to pick up the object. For a minute she held it in her hands, looking it over as if it were foreign. She was holding a letter, a letter with a red skull seal. Already she knew who it was from, but she was not sure as to the nature of its contents. With some hesitation she finally slipped her small finger through and broke the seal, folding open the piece of parchment and quickly scanning the print.

_My dear Mademoiselle,_

_Please accept my apology for last night, my behavior was uncalled-for. It was not my intention to do you any harm. _

_Do try your best to be more careful around the Opera House; those incompetent directors will need you in the future. _

_-Erik_

As she folded the letter back up again Elle smiled, glad that he was not angry with her. He had apologized when really she felt that she was the one who needed to ask for forgiveness. She had broken boundaries that had been set for her and that she had agreed to, it would only make sense that she would have to pay the price. Elle was not sure where Erik was at the moment, but she wanted to express her regret for what happened. Although she felt this way, if she did get the chance to apologize for her behavior she most likely would not. Apologizing for something meant bringing it up and Elle was aware that neither of them wanted to think about that night.

She thought about the situation for several minutes, and then was once again reminded of her hunger by noise from her stomach. The letter was tucked into a desk drawer before she reached for the doorknob to head out. It did not take long for Elle to make her way to the dining room, but she waited a couple minutes before actually entering it. Her mind contemplated over how earlier she had never truly appreciated the simple act of sharing a meal with your family. Now that those meal times were changed forever she was aware of their significance. Family is an essential element to life, she realized, and without family life may seem meaningless.

Not wanting to dwell on sad memories Elle moved her hand forward and reached for the door. The room inside was already lit by several candles, which illuminated the long table that filled the center of the room. A shadow was cast across the wall to her right and Elle noticed, after observation, that it was her father sitting at his usual seat at the head of the table. She moved further in the room, pleasantly surprised that her father was present to give her company, and closed the door behind her.

"Elle, my child, is that you?" the man asked, sounding older than he actually was. He squinted in the dull light, her appearance affirming that it was indeed her standing there. With his free arm he gestured to an empty chair. "Come and sit down, you can join me for dinner."

"I would love to," she replied, taking a seat at the side of the table close to her father so that she could see him. It had been some time since she had gotten a good look at him and now that she was able to she saw the change in his face. Although he was in his late forties he was beginning to look like he was ten years old, with more gray hairs and wrinkles about his face. He lifted an open bottle of wine that had been sitting near him and poured Elle a glass, handing it carefully over to her. She took a sip and then looked back up at him.

"Mister Tremaine paid me a visit earlier. He told me about how you will be performing tomorrow," he began, his expression serious. Elle nodded, urging him to continue, as she began to fill her plate with the food that was laid out on platters. "Congratulations! I never thought I would see the day. I must admit I did not believe him at first. And your mother, if only she were alive to see you now…" He smiled at her for a minute, his mind straying from the purpose of his statement. "He has saved me a box so that I can watch you and attend an opera one last time before…"

"Before what?" Elle asked when he paused, wondering what he was referring to. Worry filled her eyes as they searched his for his meaning. He sounded as if there was some reason why he would not have the chance to attend an opera for some time, maybe forever. That scared her. Whatever the meaning was Elle got the feeling that she would be better off not knowing.

"Never mind that," he eventually stated, breaking out of his trance and draining his glass of wine before looking back up at his daughter. With another affectionate smile he placed his warm left hand over her small right one that was resting on the table and gently squeezed. "There is something that I would like to talk to you about, but it can wait until later."

"If you say so, papa," she responded, proceeding to eat her meal. She had forgotten how delicious food could be and was savoring each bite. When she was full she picked the cloth napkin off from her lap and dabbed it on her mouth, making sure that there was none on her. Then Elle placed the napkin back on the table, took a drink, and glanced back over at her father. He had been staring at the empty chair across the table on the side opposite of him. That used to be her mother's seat.

When the man noticed that his daughter was looking at him he turned his eyes back to her. They looked on her with the absolute love of a father and the expression turned all of Elle's thoughts away from the insecurities of day. Elle finally got up from the table, ready to retire for the day, but when she reached the door he called for her. She looked back to see what he wanted.

"I want you to know, Elle, that I am proud of you."

"Good night papa," she replied, with a feeling of well-being spreading through her body. She felt optimistic to some extent and went to bed excited for what was awaiting her in the following day.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for reviewing! I love you all! Hope the wait was not too long, it is hard to find time to write these days. Anyway, please review and check back later for the next chapter. 

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** He will be back soon. Thanks for reviewing.

**Kiwi Anime-** It would be highly illogical for Elle to be given the part of Juliette, so that was why I did not have that happen. I am glad that you liked that. About the parallels, I will try to use your advice, but as I said before I already have an outline written. Also, about the Erik and Christine thing, I completely understand where you are coming from and although I do have the story already planned I am still not sure as to the final outcome of Elle and Erik's relationship. Anyway, thank you for the review and the in-depth commentary.

**Anri-** Yes it would. Thanks.

**Galasriniel-** lol, thank you.

**Kchan88-** Glad you are excited. You shall see. Thanks for reviewing.

**Lynandreth-** I will take a look at your story when I get the chance, I promise. Thanks for the review.

**TheTrinityJ-** Thank you. I did read yours and left you a review, just in case you did not see it yet.

**KnightMaria-** Thank you, I am really glad you enjoy it.


	22. Whoever Lives Will See

**Chapter 22**

The next morning Elle was awakened by a pounding at her door. She struggled to untangle herself from the sheets of her bed, forcing her eyes to open, and then slipped on a robe before answering the door. It was Madame Giry who wanted to inform her that there would be dress rehearsals that afternoon. Elle thanked her and proceeded to get dressed for the day. She pulled her hair back and tied it with a black ribbon. Before joining the other performers Elle stopped to have some breakfast. She would need the energy to make it through the day.

The pandemonium of the opera house reminded her of the opening night of Carmen. Everyone was running around every which way in order to get everything ready at the last minute. The directors were in their office and Elle's father was presumably in his, although he had not participated in the production at all. Normally Elle would have been getting dressed with her mother, in preparation for the night, but her mother was gone and she was to no longer be simply an observer. This time she was actually to be in the opera, to sing on the stage in front of thousands. The thought was overwhelming and enthralling, so she did not dare to think it.

Elle was given a dressing room and already waiting in it for her was her costume. It was fitted for Isabel, but as she tried it on the fabric slipped nicely over her body. The two young women were approximately the same size. Elle had lost some weight due to her lack of eating, so the outfit was a little loose, but the important thing was that it fit her. Since she was to play a page the costume consisted of black tights, a white shirt, and a doublet. Her hair was still pulled back as she looked in the mirror at herself. Two days ago she would never believe that she would be standing in that spot, dressed as a man, and preparing for a rehearsal. She did not have long to stare at herself for soon she was walking backstage with Isabel who was going over some last minute details with her.

Backstage was the more chaotic part of the entire opera house. Elle did not look around in awe because she had already been there before and she was too focused on Isabel, but if she had she would have seen a sight that is hard to describe. All of the occupants of that large area were busy doing something, be it getting dressed, cleaning, moving props, stretching, or drinking. There were many older opera rats that had a taste for liquor, so that was no surprise. The two women passed by the group of dancers who were lining up and Elle's eye caught a glance of Nadia. She was dressed as a guest for the scene at Capulet's party, wearing a red dress with a matching mask covering the top half of her face and her black shiny hair tied up in braids. Elle continued on, but in a way felt guilty for neglecting her friend.

Rehearsals went by fast. Every one of the participants was prepared and all seemed to be in good spirits. The directors were especially buoyant, joking with their staff and throwing out compliments to their performers. They appeared to be optimistic about that opening night and nothing could bring them down, unless of course another incident happened to stall the show. Yet all was going well, so there was no need to worry about any possible mishaps. After the swift rehearsal the directors left in a carriage that was waiting for them. They were both heading home to change into their formal attire for that night. Since it was an opening night they were going to present themselves along with a short speech to their wealthy customers and therefore they wanted to look their best.

Meanwhile Elle had a respite, so she returned to her newly appointed dressing room. She was in there for some time, practicing her scales and preparing herself. There was a fear deep down inside her mind that for some reason when she opens her mouth to sing no notes would come out. Although this was unlikely, it was still a thought that plagued her. She was still sitting at the vanity trying to reassure herself when she heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?" she asked, not moving from her spot. She was not that interested in who it could be because she assumed it was either Madame Giry or Nadia. Who else would come bother her while she was in her dressing room? In addition to that she was aware that Giry would come to summon her when it is time to return.

"It is me, Hector. Madame Giry said that I would find you here," the voice stated. Elle allowed him to enter, rather surprised that he was there. When she finally looked up from the mirror her eyes fell on him. He was already dressed for that night, wearing a navy blue vest over a white shirt and had on a black dress coat. As usual he had slicked his hair back and his blues eyes looked seriously on Elle. She turned in her seat towards the left a little to face him. "You look…"

"Like a man?" she asked humorously. She was not studying his face, but it was obvious that Hector was not in his normal relaxed frame of mind.

At her comment his mouth spread into a smile as he visually grew more at ease. "If so then like the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes upon," Elle laughed, not quite sure what to say to him, and allowed him to change the topic. His expression grew somber once more. "Actually I came here to speak with you on an important matter. Remember when you joined me for lunch several days ago?"

Elle nodded, thinking back to that day. She had been too distracted to pay much attention to him, but she did recall him attempting to discuss something with her. The exact words that he uttered did not come to mind, so she stayed silent and waited for him to explain.

"Elle, as I told you then, I have been meaning to ask you something."

"What might that be?" she asked, wondering what in the world it could be. She had absolutely no idea of what this man was up to nor did she try to guess. What she did not understand was why it could not wait until after the show, when she would be more inclined to concentrate more on him instead of what was awaiting her. For a moment Elle sat still on the padded chair as Hector stood a couple feet ahead of her. A second later, literally within the blink of an eye, he was on his right knee reaching to pull something out of his pocket. At this movement the green eyes watching him widened in confusion and astonishment.

"Will you marry me?" he finally choked, holding out a small gold ring. At first her eyes could only register the ring as a shimmer reflecting the light of the room, but when she got a better look she could see how lavish it actually was. The ring had a rather large ruby on the top, with a diamond complimenting it on each side. When the piece of jewelry reflected light it was enough to blind someone close by. It seemed almost too much, and must have cost a fortune.

It took a couple seconds for Elle to comprehend what was happening. When she realized that he was proposing to her and offering her that expensive ring her hands shot up to her mouth as she exclaimed, "Oh my!" Her mind was racing, her pulse quickened, and she was not sure what to do. Her eyes moved back and forth between the ring and Hector as she sat without replying. She seemed as frozen in place as a statue, with her hands covering her mouth and her eyes staring down at the ring held before her.

Hector must have noticed her indecision and in turn tried to persuade her into a positive response. In a pleading tone he said, "Make me the happiest man in the world and say yes."

Elle did not have time to respond, even if she were planning to. Less than a minute after he spoke the door opened and was replaced with Madame Giry. She immediately realized that she was interrupting something, but she pretended as if she didn't. Instead of giving Hector a chance to continue she stood firmly and addressed Elle first. "Elle, there you are. Come, you must join the others. Sorry monsieur, but you will have to wait to speak to her until after the performance."

The woman waited as Elle obediently got up from her seat, throwing Hector one last glance before exiting the room. He quickly slipped the ring back into his pocket, pulling himself off of the floor and watching Elle walk away. Madame Giry waited at the door for him to leave the room before she closed the door behind her and followed after Elle. The performers were gathering back behind the stage, getting into their positions. The curtain was to raise shortly, signally the start of the performance.

Meanwhile out in the auditorium seating of the theatre people were piling in and beginning to take their seats. The clamor of the congregation filled the theatre as a thousand conversations took place at once. People commented on other people's attire and jewelry as they found their seats, gossiping about those they knew. Hector easily made his way to the box that the directors saved for themselves, not stopping to talk to anyone on the way there. The box was empty and for this he was glad because at that particular moment he felt like being alone.

Elle's appearance was not until Act 3, so she was able to watch the beginning from the side of the stage. When the music began the audience grew quiet and the rustling of people moving about altogether stopped suddenly. First the chorus sang and then the people playing the roles of Tybalt and Paris entered the stage. Isabel appeared not long after, confidently taking her place on the platform. The audience was surprised to see that Isabel took Estelle's part, but once the woman began to sing it no longer mattered. Her talent erased their thoughts of the previous prima donna. Next came up Mercutio's solo, the song about Queen Mab, and the blond did not disappoint them. Elle was able to see the promise in his talent after hearing him first sing at the auditions and now he was proving to the directors that he was a wise selection for the part.

Isabel and Maximilien sang well together and Isabel seemed to have much more confidence then she had in her performance of Carmen. The two singers met up to Elle's expectations. They performed just as well as she had predicted when she suggested Isabel for the part of Juliette. The audience seemed to agree with her by their hearty applause. The lack of Estelle did not render the opera house unsuccessful; instead it gave other performers a chance to be heard by the public.

Throughout the following act Elle had been enjoying the opera from the wings of the theatre, so when it was time for her appearance Madame Giry had to remind her that her solo was approaching. When it was time for the scene Elle took her place on the stage for the first time with an actual audience filling the many seats that the stage looked upon. With a fake sword in one hand and the other resting by her side she stood below the "balcony" of the Capulets' house. The curtains were pulled back again, opening on her alone. The music started to play and the audience was silent. Elle looked out into the crowd, remembering that there was a full house. That did nothing to calm her nerves and she took one deep breath before singing. As her eyes scanned the large theatre they paused at box five. The box was empty, or so it appeared, and she grew disappointed. Her own teacher did not come to see her perform.

_"Since yesterday I have sought _

_In vain my master!  
Is he still in your home,  
My lords, Capulet?  
Let us see a bit if your worthy servants _

_the sound of my voice this morning _

_Will dare to reappear."_

That was what she thought until her eyes began to stray as she sang, passing over the thousands who came to see the opera. She caught sight of her father, who came as he said he would. Then, for a moment, she could have sworn that she saw a flash of a white mask and black cape. One blink later it was gone, but she could feel that he was there. Elle feel foolish for thinking that Erik would not show. She had not the chance to tell him about her new role, but she knew that he had a way of finding out things. Simply knowing that he was present filled her with self-assurance and drove away the pins in her stomach. Taking the sword that she held, she pretended to strum on it like it was a guitar as she serenaded the Capulets.

_"What are you doing, white turtledove,  
In this nest of vultures?  
Some day, unfolding your wing _

_You will follow love!  
To the vultures, a battle is necessary,  
To hit with a cut and a thrust _

_Their beaks are sharpened!  
Leave them, these birds of prey!  
Turtledove, who gets your joy _

_From amorous kisses!  
Guard well the fair one!  
Whoever lives will see!  
Your turtledove will escape from you,  
A ring-dove, far from his green grove _

_Drawn by love,  
All around this wild nest _

_Has, I believe, sighed.  
The vultures are at the quarry,  
Their songs, from which Cytheria flees,  
Resound with a big noise!  
Meanwhile, in their sweet intoxication _

_The lovers tell of their tenderness _

_To the stars of the night!  
Guard well the fair one!  
Whoever lives will see."_

At the end of her song others joined her on the stage to carry out the scene. When the act was over the audience clapped, and Elle felt a way that she never had before. Being on the stage and singing in front of all those people was exhilarating, similar to an adrenaline rush. When she first stood on that stage, imagining what that moment would really be like, she had no idea how intense the feeling would be. Now she knew from firsthand experience and found that it was worth it. She could now understand the appeal of the stage to people like Estelle. Elle was ecstatic and all thoughts of anything but how she was feeling were wiped from her mind.

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**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait, but I have been having problems with my computer. I actually haven't been able to do anything on my computer for five days, my dad has been working on it. I had a virus, but luckily everything is ok. Also I am sick again, sinus infection. Anyway, I am glad to finally get this chapter out. I am not going to take as long to update next time now that my computer is working. Thank all of you for reviewing. 

**Galasriniel-** Sorry to hear about your great-aunt. Thanks for the review.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** lol, yes. About your question, no. Thanks for reviewing.

**Lynandreth-** I did check out your story, it was no problem. I left a review too. Anyway, that is a good idea of yours, but you will have to wait to find out what happens. Thanks for reviewing.

**Kchan88-** Thank you. I will check out your story soon, although the name sounds familiar so I may have read part of it before. As to your question, Elle and Hector have been friends until now.

**Amanda-** Thank you, I am glad that you like it.

**fay-sheik-kikyou-chan- **lol, thank you. By the way, does your username have a meaning behind it? It is interesting.

**Anri- **Thanks.

**RilkaGreenRider- **Thanks, and I love compliments so its ok.

**JMC- **Thank you for pointing that out. I know that I have a tendency of doing that. I have never been good with grammar or mechanics, but I will try to improve.

**Captain Oblivious-** About the tip, I will try it is just that sometimes I don't even notice when I use certain words. Thanks for the review.

**Asia1st- **Sorry about the wait.

**Siren6-** His name is really Erik, I didn't name him. Anyway, thanks so much for the review and I am glad you enjoy my story.

**Winged Seraph-** Thank you!

**Maxwuver- **Thanks for reviewing!


	23. Surprise

**Chapter 23**

Cheerful faces met Elle as she left the stage. People fluttered about, in a hurry to get where they were going. She was too excited to speak, but when Madame Giry complimented her singing she was able to muster a modest 'thank you'. The young woman was surrounded by a swirl of color, costumes and scenery that seemed to blur around her. Everything seemed to be moving rapidly and soon she found that what she needed was to sit down, relax, and have a sip of water. Meanwhile those around her were already celebrating with opened bottles of wine. A woman offered her some, but Elle turned it down and the woman moved on.

The performance drew to an end, the curtain closing on Maximilien and Isabel as they sang their last duet together. The song was beautiful and the ending tragic yet poetic at the same time. Certain members of the audience wept, others were impressed, and the majority mustered applause worthy of a task well done. Despite the confusion and chaos backstage Elle made her way to her dressing room without much difficulty.

When she arrived at her destination she found Hector waiting for her outside the door. His appearance tore the performance from her mind, forcing her to deal with the situation. Hector had been leaning against the wall while his eyes scanned the area and the moment he caught sight of her he straightened up and moved to one side. On the way to her dressing room he had grabbed a bouquet of flowers, not wanting to go to Elle empty-handed. Now that she was near him he completely forgot that he was even holding anything in his right hand. All his mind could think about was the girl whom he fancied himself in love with.

"Are those for me?" Elle asked innocently, pointing to the flowers he was holding. That question snapped him out of his daze and he soon remembered why he was there. He nodded curtly, handing the bouquet out for her to take. She accepted them and then proceeded to open the door that he was standing beside. He followed her in the room, but stayed near the door and watched her as she glided over to the vanity and set the flowers down on the smooth surface. She was aware of his eyes on her, but she stayed silent. The memory of earlier flashed in her mind, turning her into stone. All of the energy she had gained from the thrill of the theatre was frozen by the unexpected question asked her by someone who she had only thought of as a friend.

Elle was facing away from Hector. He was standing several feet from where she was sitting; it was almost as if he felt he must keep his distance. She did not want to see the look in his eyes or the large ring that he had offered her. Her eyes looked down and she raised her left hand, pulling the ribbon from her hair with one swift movement. After placing the ribbon on the counter she picked up a brush and began combing her hair slowly. The bristles moved effortlessly over her long soft locks of wheat-colored hair that came down straight and thick.

He was the first to break the silence. The blood in his veins was increasing in speed and warmth just as Elle's was running cold. He wanted to get the situation over with fast, hopefully leading to a pleasant outcome, while she wished that she could delay the inevitable forever. His words were not spoken loudly yet they cut through the tension like a sharp knife cutting through a block of cheese. "We did not get the chance to finish our last conversation."

When he spoke she placed the brush back on the vanity and turned to face him. At this point words seemed useless, unable to communicate how she felt properly. She found the courage to look him in the eyes, but was still as speechless as before. It was as if she were a fish out of water, flopping about and gasping for life. "Hector…"

He did not let her continue. Instead he stopped her with one gesture and began to speak in a serious and important manner. "Before you give me an answer there is something else that I have to tell you. I have been offered the position of acting-director for an opera house back in London. It is a remarkable opportunity."

"That is wonderful," Elle replied, struggling to fake a smile. This news was sudden and unpredicted. She was genuinely glad for him, that he was able to find work that he would enjoy, but at the same time she felt as if she were losing something. "I suppose you have accepted it then, since it is what you have been preparing for."

"I have. I leave next week," he answered succinctly.

If Hector left Elle was sure that she would never see him again, yet she could not ask him to stay. It would be selfish to put herself in the way of his dream, especially when she did not return his feelings. Her glistening green eyes glanced up at him as she spoke from her heart without first considering what to say. "It's too soon to say good-bye."

Hector took this as encouragement and quickly moved closer to Elle, kneeling before her and taking her small hands in his. His hands were young and soft, warm and welcoming. "Elle, this doesn't have to be good-bye. You can come with me. All you have to say is yes and we can start a new life together. I'll be directing and you can sing; it could be just what you need!"

Tears welled up in Elle's eyes, but she only let one tear drop fall. She knew that she had to make a hard decision: to lose a friend or gain a fiancé. "I can't."

His eyes eagerly searched hers. "You can't, or you won't?"

"Hector, don't make me answer that."

"There is someone else, isn't there?" he asked jealously. His hands dropped hers and he got up from his spot. Elle did not answer at first, just sat there with her hands on her lap looking up at him. "Answer me for God's sake!"

She was upset and hurt that he would yell like that at her when she had done nothing to provoke him. The way his temper had gone from safe to risky scared her because she had never seen him like that before. Finally she replied quietly and sadly, "Would it even make a difference if there was?"

They were both silent as Hector pondered her response. Soon he felt horrible for the way he had acted, which was obvious in his speech and expression. "I'm sorry," His eyes looked at her apologetically for a moment, then tried to avoid her gaze. "You are right; perhaps it is better if I do not know," He took small steps back towards the door and his hand landed on the doorknob. It was evident that he was uncomfortable by the way he was rambling. "Yes, well, I should be going."

She watched his hand close over the doorknob and begin to turn it. Suddenly Elle felt the need to stop him; she did not want him to leave in that way. "Wait."

At the sound of her voice Hector stopped dead in his tracks and released his hand from the handle. He kept his back to her but turned his head to the right and looked over his shoulder at her form. She had not moved from her seat at the vanity. "Yes?" he asked, wondering why she had chosen to stop him from leaving. Rejection was a stab in the heart and lingering there felt like someone was twisting the knife that was already in his chest.

"I'm sorry too," she stated. It was difficult for her to see the pain that was so evident in Hector and know that it was caused by her. She knew that he did not deserve to be heartbroken, yet she was sure that one day he would find happiness.

"I hope you find what you are looking for," he responded, leaning forward and grabbing hold of the knob once more. Within a minute he was gone and the door was slammed behind him, leaving Elle alone in her dressing room. She turned to face the vanity and looked up to see herself looking back at her in the mirror. Just as easily as Hector walked out of the door he had left her life and it felt almost like loosing a brother. It was that moment that Elle realized nothing was going to be the same again.

Once Elle was able to she changed into her dress from that morning and placed the costume back where she had found it. She did not feel like celebrating with the others, but instead felt like returning to her bedroom and being alone. Leaving the flowers in her dressing room, Elle stepped out into the hallway. She slipped through the crowd and hurried up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Pulling the key from her pocket she unlocked the door, grabbed a lit candle from a small table in the hall, and entered.

She set the candle down by the door and proceeded to light various candles throughout her room. Everything looked the same and Elle felt glad to be back. With a sigh she took a seat at her piano, feeling guilty for recently neglecting it. Her fingers lightly traced the wood across the top of the instrument as her eyes followed, but she stopped as she noticed an object that was foreign resting on the top. It was in the exact same place that Erik had left her a letter only a day before. It was a rose, a white rose, with a black satin ribbon tied about the stem. Slowly her hands left the piano and gently retrieved the gift.

Elle brought the rose up to her nose and breathed in the sweet perfume that the flower gave off. Immediately she was aware that it was from Erik, causing her spirits to rise once more. Thoughts of Hector were gone and replaced by that of her teacher. If it was not for his lessons then she would never had the recent wonderful experience onstage, and so she wanted to thank him. She felt as though she owed a lot to him, for without him where would she be now? Absent-mindedly she twirled the rose as she sat on her hard piano bench.

Not aware of the time or how long she had been sitting there, Elle was only brought back to earth when she heard the sweet sound of her instructor's voice. He spoke to her as usual, with his voice seeming to come from all over the room. Her head shot up at the sound, the rose still in her hands, and she looked around even though she knew that she would not see him. "Congratulations on your first performance. You were an agreeable Stephano, although you would have made a better Juliette."

"Erik! I am glad that you have come. I wish to thank you, for the rose and the gift of song. I feel as though I have never been so happy in my life!" she exclaimed, revitalized once again by the remembrance of her time onstage. His presence and his approval of her performance both added to her happiness at that moment.

"You have proved to me that your lessons have not been in vain," he replied. "And your directors will soon realize the talent that has been sitting right under their noses."

"I am delighted to hear that you are pleased," Elle answered. Her teacher's opinion held heavy weight with her; he was a musical genius and so his praise was worth more a thousand of other people's compliments.

"I have a surprise for you," Erik stated after a moment's silence. This sparked Elle's interest, for she had not expected something like that from him.

"A surprise?" she asked, wondering what he meant. She set the rose back down on the top of her piano and rose from her seat. Her ears tried to find the direction his voice was emanating from, and her eyes landed on a length of wall. Then Elle remembered coming back to her room from being with Erik and how there was a piece of wall that moved, connecting to a hidden passageway. She watched as slowly the wall began to turn and in its space stood a shadow. Hypnotically she moved closer to get a better look and soon she was face to face with Erik.

"Follow me," he said, neither commanding nor asking, as he offered her his hand. It was not several seconds before Elle's hand was in his and he was guiding her through the dark, damp, and intricate tunnels. Even if she was able to see better than she was in the darkness she would not have remembered the way he was taking her. She had only seen the way to her room, yet even that was rushed and the memory of it blurry. After he helped her into a small boat and began to row through a lake she knew that they would reach their destination soon.

She was only sure of where they were once they arrived, for the sight of Erik's home was one that she would remember forever. It was just how she remembered it, except it seemed that the place had even more candles than before. Erik led her straight to his organ, where he took off his cloak and sat down on the bench. Elle stood close by and waited. He picked up some papers, set a music score open on his organ, and then turned to look at Elle. She looked at his face again, the white mask still covering half of it, and did not think of what lie behind it. Instead she took the papers that he handed to her, watched him turn to face his organ once more, and then studied what he handed her. It was a copy of the music score that he had set out. She instantly knew what the surprise was.

"Did you write this?" was all Elle asked, and she received a curt nod in reply. Then Erik proceeded to stretch out his experienced fingers over the keys and play. At first she was so captivated by the music he played that she forgot she was supposed to sing, but then she finally did and was even more mesmerized. The song that he had written was beautiful and being able to produce the music with him was a great privilege to her.

After the song was over Elle was speechless. She was not sure how to express the way that she was feeling. Erik's music was deep and empowering, at times soft and at times powerful. It was also obviously very personal to him, so in a way that meant he trusted her. Elle wondered if he knew the power he had over her, but did not say a word.

The silence lasted several minutes. Eventually Erik rose from his seat and placed his eyes on the young woman with him. He spoke in a manner as though he doubted Elle's dedication to her singing, but he could see how much she enjoyed it. As he spoke he gestured with his arms to the room around him. "We can continue your lessons down here from now on, that is if you still wish to continue with them."

"Oh yes, of course I do!" was her quick reply. She was sure that she wanted to continue the lessons and in a way she was drawn to the mystery of his lair. Taking her lessons down there meant that she could take lessons from a person instead of a voice, even though that voice was beautiful.

Erik was pleased with her answer and not at all surprised. The lessons in his home would be pleasant for both parties involved because, for some reason, she sang the best down there. She still had many things to learn, but for now she had a singing voice that was hard to compete with. If Elle continued improving as she had been then he was sure that she would be a star one day. He could have another student of his become a prima donna…

The time was getting late and he knew that he had to take her back. Elle left with him obediently, following him into the boat and then through the passageways as before. She was growing tired, realizing how late it was, and he was focused on his task. He watched her enter her room and, as the wall was once again closing, she bade him goodnight. For a moment after the wall shut completely Erik stood there staring at it before heading back. Although everything was fine then, he had an ominous feeling that things were not going to remain that way for long.

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**A/N:** I just have one thing to say: thank you all for reviewing! 

**CeleryBunch-** lol, don't you wish?

**Nika-** Glad you like!

**Anri-** Actually there was some foreshadowing, but it was supposed to be a surprise.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** lol. Yeah, you are right, he does.

**L.B. the Daft Penguin-** This takes place before the auction.

**K. R. Wehrman-** lol, I'm happy you like the story.

**Amanda-** Thanks for reviewing. Tell me what you think.

**Captain Oblivious-** We'll see. Thanks for the review.

**Eryka O.G.-** Nice quote. Thanks for reviewing.

**Galasriniel-** lol, it wasn't really supposed to be funny.

**AnimeChik06-** You will have to wait and see. Glad you enjoyed the story so far.

**CantLiveWithinYou-** Thank you.


	24. The Truth

**Chapter 24**

Sleep, however short, is beneficial to all minds and bodies. Elle did not sleep for more than six hours yet she awoke early and refreshed. She dove into her morning activities with a clear mind and energized body. Her spirits were high and as she was changing she was humming a tune to herself. Then she stopped before her mirror, contemplating how to wear her hair by the pale light that was pouring in through the crack in her curtains. The humming gradually turned into Elle lightly singing one of Juliette's arias that Erik had taught her.

"_I want to live_

_In this dream which intoxicates me_

_This day still,_

_Sweet flame_

_I keep you in my soul_

_Like a treasure!_

_I want to live._

_This intoxication of youth_

_Lasts, alas, only for one day!_

_Then comes the hour_

_When one weeps._

_Far from the morose winter_

_Let me, let me slumber_

_And inhale the rose,_

_Before plucking its petals._

_Ah! - Ah! - Ah!_

_Sweet flame!_

_Stay in my soul_

_Like a sweet treasure_

_For a long time still._

_Ah! - Like a treasure_

_For a long time still."_

Time passed pleasantly by as Elle dwelled in a world of her own. When she completed her morning routine Elle sat down at her piano. She decided to play music for a bit before she went to eat breakfast. A melodic euphoria was swimming throughout her body, making her only aware of the music and her contentment. It was as if nothing else existed and everything was right with the world. This was not like a forgetful oblivion, for she remembered all that happened the previous day yet still felt tranquil and unperturbed.

For a time she was one with the piano, her fingers extending out into the piano keys; the sound flowing out and filling the room with sweet music. Elle was as unaware of time as much as it was of her until she heard a light knock on her door. The person knocked again, causing her to cease playing and to rise from the bench. As she opened her door she was not sure of who to expect. Standing in the hall was her father. Now that he was in better light she could see more clearly how he had aged. Any vitality that he had when they first moved into the opera house was gone and replaced with a troubled disposition. He appeared to be carrying a burden that was too heavy for him to bear. The man stood, slightly hunched over, warmly smiling at his daughter. She noticed the difference, remembering how he used to stand tall and proud. It was a sad transition to see.

"Elle, it is time that we talk," he stated as the smile vanished from his face.

"Yes, come in," Elle moved aside, making way for him to enter. She was reminded of their last meal together, when he had mentioned that he was attending his last opera before something. Now she was once again curious as to what that something was. Her emotions quickly changed from bliss to gravity as she closed the door behind her father and joined him on the sofa. He sat to her left and reached out to touch one of her hands. She immediately noticed that his hands were cold.

"There is something that we must discuss," he said gravely after they had been sitting for about a minute looking at each other. His expression was serious, which scared Elle. She felt that she was unprepared for this conversation, but was too interested to try to delay it. If there was bad news then she would have to know eventually and she might as well find out then.

"Yes, father?"

"It seems that Mister Tremaine and Bolster have everything under control here, and there is no reason for us to stay here any longer. They have been handling everything since-" He decided to change the direction his sentence was taking. "-for some time and I am not needed here. I think that a change of scenery would do me some good, some place out of the city. I have bought a house right on the outskirts of Paris."

"But papa!" Elle exclaimed once she realized what he was saying. He wanted them to move out of the opera house. Out of all of the things that she had suspected he would say this was not one of them. She had not been prepared for this type of situation. It was understandable why he would want to leave; the place held sad memories for him, but Elle was not ready to. She had just recently had her first appearance in an opera, leaving would be like throwing away all of the energy that she had put into singing well. Not to mention never seeing or hearing her teacher again.

"I had a feeling that you might protest. I know that you have made a home for yourself here and I would not force you to leave if you did not wish to. I have already spoken with Madame Giry and she agreed to watch over you should you choose to stay," the man replied, not wanting or intending to upset her. The last thing he wanted was for Elle to be unhappy. For that reason he was offering her a choice, but either way Elle saw it as she was losing something. If she stayed then she would lose her father, what was left of her family, and if she left she would lose the opera house, her teacher, and any chance of singing onstage again.

"I do not wish for you to leave either," she said sadly. She had already lost a mother and now her father was leaving her as well. Her family was slowly diminishing and soon she would have none left. This thought frightened her. Without family she would be alone in the world, which would be a first for her. Elle would not know what to do.

"I will not be far off, an hours ride at most. If you do stay then you can visit me any time you want," He noticed the look on his daughter's face and he tightened his hold on her hand. "Do not fret my darling; everything will be fine, I promise."

Elle stifled her tears and leaned in to hug her father. Her head rested on his chest as he stroked her long hair. His comforting words did not do much to change how she was feeling, but she appreciated them nonetheless. They were in that embrace for several minutes, neither one wanting to let go for fear of that being the last one they would share. Elle was not sure whether she would stay or go and she knew that she would not have much time to decide.

Finally they broke apart and Elle helped her father get up from the sofa. He made for the door and then stopped, as if he remembered that there was something else he had to do. Then he turned around again, looking at his daughter, and his lips curled into a grin. "You were magnificent in the opera. Your mother would be proud."

"Thank you."

"I am leaving in several days. Think about what you want to do and make your decision, I will be waiting." He continued for the door and left, leaving behind Elle who was standing at the side of her room. Life was not getting any easier and every situation seemed to be trying to get her to leave the opera house, which was the last thing that she wanted to do. She sighed, falling back down onto her sofa, and rested her head on a cushion.

Elle was expecting a lesson that night. The lessons were to continue down in Erik's home at the same times that her lessons were before. Her day went by slowly as she anxiously waited. She did not feel like being around anyone and so she kept to her room. The opera house was not busy; everyone had the day off and so many were out. People were recuperating from the previous night of celebration for the performance. Elle had not participated in any of it and her spirits were once again dampened by the news of her father.

She thought the situation over, but could not decide what to do. All she wanted was for things to go back the way they were, yet that could never happen. Her mother was dead, Hector was gone, and now her father was going to leave as well. There was not much she could do and the only person she felt she could talk to about it was her teacher. So the only thing that Elle looked forward to was her lesson and when she started lighting candles she knew that it would be soon.

Finally the time came and Erik appeared in the secret passageway, ready to guide Elle back down to his musical lair. They arrived in silence, an air of unspoken understanding surrounding them. Erik helped her out of the boat and she watched him from the shore as he tied the boat and jumped out. The lesson went as usual; Erik picked the songs and Elle sung them along with his accompanying music. Neither of them could deny the power of the music, and neither of them wanted the lesson to end. Erik had decided, even before their last time together, that Elle was ready to sing his music- the music that he had been working on privately- and that he was ready to listen. The previous night had brought him a kind of joy that he had not felt in a long time, the joy of hearing a piece that he wrote sung by someone with talent- someone who he helped reveal hidden talent.

Elle felt delight as well, but in a different form. She simply felt happy to have the opportunity to be taught by such a musical genius and to be able to sing with him and for him. His music was magical; it made her forget all of her worries and focus on the wondrous feeling that it created. Even though it had such a strong hold over her, on this particular occasion Elle was distracted. Her mind could not stop dwelling on the difficult decision that she would need to make, and soon. She wanted to turn to Erik, for he seemed to be the only other person who mattered to her and whose opinions held heavy weight. This was kept in the back of her mind as she waited for the time to come.

Then, when the lesson was coming to an end, Erik stopped playing. He turned in his seat, obviously bothered by something, and studied Elle. She simply looked back at him, wondering what he was thinking. Erik noticed instantly that his student was not putting her all into the music. It was apparent that she was thinking about something other than the lesson and that worried him. Usually the music drew her to it and wiped her thoughts clean, but this time was different. He spoke to her as her instructor, in an authoritative tone of voice. "What is it that is distracting you? You must not let your mind wander."

Elle's face became somber and for a moment he thought that she would cry, but instead she spoke softly. "Erik, I have to talk to you about something."

"What is it, my dear?" he asked, wondering what it was about. Erik was no longer speaking to her as her teacher, but instead as a friend.

"It is my father. He is moving out of the opera house."

"Do you want to leave?" Erik was almost positive of what her answer would be, but there was always the possibility that she changed her mind. The way she spoke he could tell that she was upset about her father's decision. He had overheard Monsieur D'aubigne speaking to a man in his office about buying a home out of the city a couple weeks ago, yet he did not know if Elle would be joining him. Lately she had been so involved in the establishment that it seemed a crime to take her away from it.

"Oh no, of course not!" she exclaimed, surprised that he would even think that. "He said that I could stay, if I wanted to, but that he was leaving either way."

"That is your decision to make," he replied, getting up from his organ and walking by her. Erik picked up several sheets of paper from a pile and then returned to his instrument and sat down. He arranged the sheets on the organ, pretending to be indifferent to the situation. He did not want Elle to leave, but he could not bring himself to tell her that. It was hard for Erik to put his trust in anyone, especially after what happened with Christine. As he sat on the bench he stared into the music sheets and thought back to before he met Elle.

Christine had betrayed and abandoned him, and he let her go. He let her go because he loved her, her happiness came first. The only condolence was that he knew she was happy wherever she was, married to Raoul. That name still ran a surge throughout his body whenever he thought of it… So he was left to pine away down below the remains of _L'Opera Populaire_ in the cold damp passages that he was so accustomed to. With no rays of hope, and only his music for company, he was determined to slowly wither away into nothing, until he would finally be free of his pain and suffering. Each day his vitality slowly left his body, making him weak and unable to take long trips among the remains. He was certain that he was to die, to die along with his one and only mistress, the opera house.

Then one day, he began hearing voices echoing through what was left of the remarkable structure that had been left undisturbed for some time. Soon he found that the opera house was to be restored; some reasonably wealthy man had bought it intending to restore the edifice to its former glory. After that discovery, Erik's health began to return to him. With each stone set into place, each foundation fixed, each day that the building start to rise back to its towering height, more strength in his body was gained. The blood in his veins ran smoothly once more, his muscles no longer ached, the constant throbbing in his head ceased, and his heartbeat pounded rhythmically. He found the energy to join in the construction secretly, making sure that his previous hard work of creating hidden passageways for his own use would not be destroyed by mindless workers.

The sharp pains in his heart continued, but they stemmed from a mental illness not physical. His suffering was something that no doctor or medicine could cure; there never was a cure for love… But now his body had found a reason to live after all, God did not see fit to take him off the earth just yet. Despite the thoughts that death would be his only salvation, Erik knew deep inside his mind that there must be a reason that he did not die. He had come quite close to death, but was disturbed by the newcomers. There was something he must do, something that was keeping him alive and restoring his body along with the opera house. Suddenly he was filled with a purpose, to wait for the day when the building once again opened itself to the public, pouring out the music that had since left his life.

Erik longed to see his home returned to its former grandeur. For two long years he watched the construction take place from in the corners of the building, and not once had he come close to being discovered by the workers. He had not thought about his music for months after Christine left, eventually turning to his organ for comfort that it no longer gave him. When the masons came he had to cease playing his organ for a time, not wanting to risk them finding his abode, which they never did. Rarely did they descend past a certain point in the cellars, there was no need to. Not to mention some still had superstitions about a ghost haunting that area, even though Erik had not been heard from or seen since the night that the place was set on fire. Most of the damage had been done to the upper layers; Erik's home had been completely untouched. For that he should have been grateful, but he found it hard to thank God for keeping him safe and living.

His heart still clung to the memory of Christine, although he had given her up long ago. He kept the ring that she gave to him the last time that he saw her; it was all that he had left. It was safe inside a box that Erik placed in a closet in his room where it had been sitting for some time.

"Christine…" he whispered to himself, the image of her in his mind. She was looking at him, with pity and compassion, and then handed him the ring. Then she left him and he could hear her off in the distance with _him._

Erik was snapped out of his reverie when he heard Elle speak. "That is all you have to say?" she asked, unaware of the thoughts and memories that were running through his mind. She felt that there should be more and felt hurt that he was acting cold towards her. How could he not care that there was a possibility he would never see her again? She knew that it would torture her to separate herself from him, but feeling like he did not reciprocate those feelings was just as painful. The story that Meg told of him came back to her, the story of Christine. Elle heard him say her name just then and knew that he was thinking of her.

"_I understand that you loved her,_

_And that you still do._

_But do I mean nothing to you?_

_Does this mean nothing at all?"_

"What are you speaking of?" he asked angrily in response, not turning his head to look at her. He knew who she was referring to, but he did not want to talk about her- not to Elle, not to anyone. Christine was now no more to him then a shadow and a feeling. It hurt enough simply thinking about her.

"You still love her," Elle replied, forgetting her place out of hurt feelings. She knew then that she was jealous; she was jealous of someone who chose someone else over him. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him sing again- the pain it brought her- made her realize that she did care for him. It was a new feeling, which she was not sure of how to describe. Could it be love? "You still love Christine."

"Do not speak that name!" he growled from his seat. Why was she doing this? What did she care about his past and who he loved? Why did it matter to her if he loved anyone, regardless if it was Christine or not? These questions puzzled him, but the all that he cared about at that point was that he did not want to think about Christine. He did not want to hear her name spoken in Elle's sweet voice. He did not want to dream of her and have all the agony return as if it were a fresh wound.

"Sorry… I did not mean to…" she attempted to respond, but could not finish a sentence. To witness the raw anger and pain again made her remember how bad she felt last time she saw it, and again it was provoked by her. She did not mean to upset him, at the time she was only thinking of her own emotions. Now she saw with her own eyes how that woman he had loved, and probably still did, had tortured his heart and she wanted to help. Yet there was nothing she could do, so Elle stood there and wished that the circumstances were different- for all of them.

Erik finally turned to look at Elle, and the sight of her sorrow calmed him down. He remembered what happened last time he became angry around her, and did not want that to happen again. Truly he did not want her to view him as a monster, but sometimes it was hard for him to control his temper. This time he was able to regain his cool composure. "What is it that you want?"

"I want to know the truth," she answered, her eyes searching his for answers.

"You know enough already," he replied coldly, pulling himself up off of the bench and standing at his full height. There was silence for a moment, each of them staring at the other. Her expression was one of sadness and his was one of reserve. He was holding himself back, refusing to let himself be affected by her evident emotions. Elle broke the silence first, she could no longer hold in what she was feeling.

"If you asked me to then I would stay," Elle cried, tears now rolling down her face.

"There is nothing more I can say."

At this point Elle felt like she had been stabbed in the heart. All she wanted was for him to show her in some way that he cared, but he could not- or would not- do that. She felt like she meant nothing to him, like he did not care what she chose to do. For this reason she was miserable and could not stop herself from crying.

Erik could not bear to sit there and watch her tears flow freely. He may have acted like he had not heart, but in reality it pained him to see her so sad. There was no way that he could tell her the truth, it was better for both of them that way, therefore there was nothing he could do. Soon he took her back, neither of them speaking, and left her outside of her room. He could still hear her weeping through the wall after it closed behind her. Quickly Erik returned to his lair and pounded away at his organ, letting his mixed emotions out through his music.

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**A/N:** Sorry for the wait, the website wouldn't let me sign in to update. Thank you for the reviews. 

**mrmistoffelees-** Thanks for reviewing.

**Kate-** Why thank you, lol. You'll see.

**Anri-** Yes, well you got what you wanted. About the phantom, you'll have to wait to find out what happens.

**CeleryBunch-** Sorry, we can't kill Hector, but that is the last we see of him for some time. Glad you love the story.

**Captain Oblivious-** I love my phantom soundtrack. Anywho, thanks for the review.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** Yes he is.

**fay-sheik-kikyou-chan-** Thank you. Yes, things are chaotic here too. The song he played was new, not one of his old ones. I just didn't feel like writing it so that was why there were no lyrics.

**Hikoku-** Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you like my story.

**Priestess-Taisho-** Thanks!


	25. Making the Decision

**Chapter 25**

Morning came and went; it made no difference to Elle. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her hair a mess, and she wore the same dress from the preceding day. The previous night she had cried herself to sleep and now she was awake, lying in her bed and staring into space. She had no motivation to leave the warmth of her bed nor did she find a reason to. Outside the world was going about its business ignorant to the pain she felt. Her curtains were drawn closed and she kept them that way, intentionally keeping out the light. The sunshine of afternoon would only make her feel worse.

The world, or at least her world, was crumbling beneath Elle's feet. She had nothing to hold on to in order to keep from falling and all hope seemed to have faded away. There was an important decision she had to make, which was like deciding which path to take when encountering a forked road. There was no telling which road led to happiness and which to deprivation, so choosing was like flipping a coin and hoping that it lands on the side that you wanted it to land on. Elle's choices were limited and neither promised her a better life. Before she had been more leaning to the option of staying at the opera house and visiting her father weekly, but now the situation had tilted. She was not sure if either choice held for her something worth living for.

Leaving meant giving up the opera house and the possibility of becoming a singer, for good. When she was younger being on stage was something that she had dreamed about, due to her own mother's love of the opera, and now her dreams had come true- to an extent. She could finally sing now that she had the training, but if she left the city then she most likely would not be able to use that skill. Her father was retaining the ownership of the building, but he was handing over the management to the two directors. This meant that things there were going to change, if only barely. Without him there they were free to do and conduct business as they wished. Elle was not sure if it was smart to leave the place in their hands, especially if both her and her father were leaving. There was no telling what they might do and it worried her that she would not be there to watch over. That was not the only reason that she did not want to leave.

Her father had moved her family from their house to live there and Elle had found a way to adjust to the changes. Now that she finally had a place for herself there, actually helping with the operas, he wanted to move again. That meant more change and she felt that she had enough of that for the time being. It was enough that she had lost a mother and a friend, if she left then she would lose another friend and a teacher. That seemed bad enough, but she would lose along with them a chance to utilize her new talent, another chance at the stage. Her first performance would have been her last and the wonderful experience would have been a tease. Plus there was Erik… but now she was not sure that meant anything. He did not care if she stayed, and that changed everything.

If she did stay, which the chances of were decreasing, then she would be alone. She would have the opera house, she would have her singing, she would have the stage, but she would not have family. Her entire family would be gone and the only person she would have to talk to would be Nadia, and she did not feel close to her anymore. Erik would have been the main reason for her staying, he was a teacher and a friend to her and he meant a lot to her, but now it would be just as painful to stay as to leave. If she stayed then Elle would still see him, if he agreed to continue lessons and whatnot, yet it would not be the same. It would be hard for her to look at him, to be around him, knowing that he did not return the feelings that she had for him. She knew that Erik still loved another, but that does not mean that he could not care about her. He could not even tell her that he wanted her to stay, which hurt more than anything. Why stay for someone who does not care if you leave?

These were the possibilities that she had to consider, and faced with all of the details she felt that it was a no-win situation. No matter what she decided on one fact remained the same: Erik did not love her. That piece of knowledge made it seem to Elle like nothing else mattered, like all the other details were unimportant. She could not force him to love her, she could not force him to do anything, and the pain was too much to bear. Nothing she could do would take away that pain, but there was a chance that a new place could bring her a change for the better. There was no telling what the future had in store, perhaps this time her father was right by wanting to leave. The question now was not whether she could get on without her father if she stayed; it was if she could get on without Erik if she left.

Elle was not planning on getting up for the day, so she did not move from her spot. Time passed, yet Elle was not aware of it. She was not sure of how long she had been laying in the same position for, and she did not care. Some time later there was a knock on her door. It was not a usual knock or a thud, it sounded fast paced and light- the person was not knocking very hard. She did not move an inch or even bother to pick her head off from the pillow; she was not interested in greeting visitors. There was more knocking and then a pause. Elle sighed, thinking that the person had gone away and left her alone in her misery, but then she heard the doorknob turn. Slowly she remembered that she had forgotten to lock her door the last time she returned to her room. The door creaked open and Elle sat in silence.

"Elle?" a young woman's voice asked, peeking around the room. Her feet tiptoed over the floorboards, causing a slight squeak to come from the wood. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for signs of her missing friend. The room was dark, she noticed that the window was covered, and so she had to squint to try to see anything. She caught sight of a form on the bed on the far side of the room and, after closing the door behind her, ran over to it. "Oh dear lord Elle, what happened to you?"

Elle had recognized the voice and did not have to look in order to know immediately who it was beside her. The girl was indeed her friend Nadia, who was currently kneeling at the side of Elle's bed inspecting her. Elle's eyes wandered over to glance at her friend, yet she did not answer. Nadia looked well, but worried, which was understandable under the circumstances. Elle was aware that she did not look presentable, but she did not care. As far as she was concerned she appeared as bad as she felt and there was not much to be done about that.

Nadia looked over her friend with concerned eyes. Elle had not been seen by anyone in the opera house since the performance, and she was beginning to worry. She had not been there when people were reading the reviews from the newspaper, which was an event that she would normally attend. Nadia knew that there must be something wrong if she was not interested in the opera house, so she decided to go and check up on her. It was odd that Elle did not answer her door, and even odder that she simply was lying in her bed in a dark room with her eyes glazed over. The girl could not imagine what had happened to her friend or why she looked like a mess. When Elle did not answer her she did not give up, instead she continued with her questioning, wiping away the hair that was stuck to Elle's face.

"What is wrong?" she inquired, noticing her friend's red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Her skin felt clammy and damp under her hand, and it was a shade paler than usual. Nadia knew that she had been crying and she wanted to know why. As far as she was concerned Elle should be happy, the performance had gone well and the reviews had been positive. This strange behavior meant that something had happened; something had made her terribly upset… something or someone. She took Elle's hand in hers and looked into her swollen eyes, waiting patiently for answers.

Her friend was not sure where to begin. There was no simple answer for the question that Nadia had asked and there was no way that she would completely understand unless she was in her shoes. Plus Elle had kept Erik a secret from everyone. He would have to remain a secret; Elle could not bring herself to betray him, no matter how bad he made her feel. She would have to lie to her friend, or at least not tell the entire truth. Elle found it hard to speak, and when she finally did her voice came out raspy and strained. "Everything Nadia, everything is wrong."

"Tell me about it," Nadia replied, getting up from her spot on the floor yet still keeping her eyes on Elle. "I am here for you Elle," She moved from the bed and over to the adjacent side of the room, preparing to pull open the curtains. When she tore them apart the light poured in, washing over the room and making it easier to see. The black-haired girl thought that perhaps the light could help, or at least it would help her to see as she tried to clean her friend up.

"I- I don't know what to do," Elle cried. She was in a state of mind that Nadia had never seen her in before. The normally practical and sensible girl was not thinking rationally. She took a long time to answer questions, but Nadia decided not to pressure her. Instead she would wait until she was ready to speak, even though Nadia had no idea what Elle's response meant.

"You can take your time," the young woman responded, returning to Elle's side after she was done with the windows. She pulled back Elle's blanket and helped her sit up straight. Then she walked over to the vanity and picked up a brush and a bowl of water. She set the bowl of water on the stand next to the bed and then sat down on the edge next to Elle. With the brush she began combing Elle's tangled blonde locks, running the bristles through and stopping at parts where the hair was knotted. Nadia felt like a mother, sitting there and taking care of someone. Her mother used to brush her hair when she was a little girl, so this brought back memories.

Elle allowed her friend to comb her hair and she sat silently for several minutes before she decided to continue. Maybe Nadia could help her make her decision, or maybe it would just help by talking to someone about the situation. Either way she chose to speak as Nadia continued to drag the brush over her long hair. "My father is moving out of Paris," she began quietly and Nadia listened intently, yet did not stop doing her task. "He has already bought a house outside of the city and will be leaving shortly. I am not sure when, but it is soon."

"Oh," was all her friend said in reply, being quiet so that she could speak more. This conversation felt odd because they had not spent much time together since Elle's mother died, but close friends have a sort of bond that never dies- no matter what happens.

"I can stay, if I choose to, and continue on with the operas. Madame Giry said that she would look after me once he is gone. He said that I could visit him, that I could take the horses and carriage and ride out to see him whenever I want to-" Elle began to cry, suddenly and softly, and Nadia stopped brushing her hair. She set the brush down next to the bowl and took the woman into her thin arms, rubbing her back with her hand. Elle cried into her shoulder. "But Nadia, I am going to miss him!"

Nadia thought she meant her father. Little did she know that Elle was speaking of a completely different person; a person who, even though was famous around the opera house, was not really known by any of them. Elle knew that Nadia did not know who she was talking about, but she did not care. She was so concerned about the present that she did not bother with thinking of the future. They held their embrace for the duration of Elle's weeping. Nadia tried to soothe her by whispering into her ear. "Shh… things will get better Elle, don't cry."

Eventually Elle stopped crying and they broke apart. Nadia picked up the sponge from the bowl of water and began to wash Elle's face. It was sticky from all of the salty tears she had cried. At first Elle pulled back from the cold water that was being placed on her face, but then she obeyed and allowed her to continue.

"You don't have to stay you know," Nadia spoke as she squeezed the excess water out of the sponge after dipping in the bowl and then applied the sponge to Elle's smooth forehead. "You can move with you father. He is your family and I would understand that you would want to be with him, we would all understand. We would miss you here though, I would miss you. You will be a great woman someday Elle, and then everyone will see what I see."

"Not everyone…" Elle whispered to herself as she pondered her friend's words.

Nadia finished cleaning Elle's face and then helped her into a different dress. After a while she left; Elle told her that she needed to go and speak with her father. Nadia nodded and told her to come say good-bye before she left, that is if she decided to leave. Elle glanced at herself in the mirror before leaving her room. She appeared considerably better then she had when Nadia had first seen her. Her hair was now combed and straight, her skin clean and healthy looking, and the dress was fresh and free of wrinkles.

She set out into the hall, taking the well-known path to the office hallway. When she arrived she paused outside the door for a moment, taking a breath. Then Elle walked in the room; her father was sitting behind his desk. He looked up from it when he heard her approaching and waited for her speak. She stopped several feet from the desk and stood still, looking straight into his eyes. "I've made my decision."

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**A/N: **Wanted to get another chapter out before my last week of actual classes. I really can't wait until school is over. Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing (it's your reviews that motivate me). Oh how I love cliffhangers! devilish smile 

**mrmistoffelees-** Would you like him to?

**phantom's gurl-** Thank you, I'm glad that you like it. I usually update about once a week due to school, but hopefully after it ends I'll be able to update more often.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** lol, love the enthusiasm. Thanks.

**Amanda-** Thank you. That reminds me of a song- should I stay or should I go now, know what I'm talking about? I'll keep your hint in mind.

**Captain Oblivious-** Yeah it would, and vulnerability is not something that he likes to show.

**crazyloverofboys-** Thank you.

**Lynandreth-** Thank you, I'm glad you think so. Actually I have read three books about the phantom, one being the original by Gaston Leroux of course. Yeah, the website was acting strange for a couple of days; sometimes it does that to me. Anyway, thanks for the compliment, I really appreciate it.

**Priestess-Taisho-** Thanks for reviewing.

**Bankotsu chick-** Glad you liked it!


	26. Promises and Regrets

**Chapter 26**

"What will it be?" Monsieur D'aubigne asked his daughter, ready to hear her decision. He was surprised that she had decided already, he had only informed her of his decision the previous day. Knowing how fond she was of the opera he thought that it would take her longer, yet still he was anxious to hear what she had to say. It would be a lie to say that he would not be pleased if she chose to leave with him, for his daughter was all he had left of his wife, but he did not want to crush Elle's plans or to prevent her from succeeding as a singer.

"I am moving with you," she replied without a second thought. That resolution was hard for her to come to all by herself, but in the end she saw it as the only way. She wasn't sure if she could stand going back to the way things were between her and the phantom; she wasn't even sure that if she stayed he would still visit her. At least if Elle left she would have her father, and the change could be for the better, as he so believed. In a way her decision was in retaliation against Erik's cold heart, or heart that was cold towards her, but she was not sure if he would see it that way. All she knew was that once those words were spoken there was no going back and she had chosen to take the plunge.

Her father smiled at her response, not even attempting to conceal his happiness towards her decision. He was almost certain that she was going to stay and this was quite a surprise for him. It was what he wanted her to say all along, but he would have never thought of not giving her the choice. She would never forgive him for taking her away from everything she loved, which made sense. It seemed that whenever she finally got comfortable at a place he decided to move them. If his wife hadn't died then he wouldn't have made that decision at all. The man hated having to move Elle around so much and he planned on this being the last time.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" he questioned her instead of immediately accepting her response. She could just be saying that because she thinks that is what he wants her to say, which would be the wrong reason and he knew that. The truth was D'aubigne did not want his daughter to do anything that she would regret later. Her happiness was what mattered most to him and so it was something that he did not want to stand in the way of. If she was not already aware of the consequences of moving with him he wanted to remind her. "You may never get another chance at the stage again if you come with me Elle. Is this the path that you wish to take?"

"I am sure," Elle answered, having already considered the possibilities. "There is nothing for me here."

D'aubigne nodded, almost not quite believing her. She seemed set on leaving with him, but he could tell that deep inside she wanted to stay. There was nothing he could do, she made her decision and so things were going to go as planned. "We leave the day after tomorrow in early morning. Have your bags ready by then."

"I will, father."

Elle left his office and headed back to her room to begin packing. She found it hard to believe that in only one day she would be leaving the opera house forever, not knowing if she would ever place her feet upon the front steps again. The devastating reality struck her at once when she started cleaning out the drawers of her desk and found two letters from Erik that she had hid there. Despite the fact that Elle felt heartbroken due to her last encounter with him, she still longed to say goodbye. She doubted that he would give her that opportunity.

The next day Elle kept her word and went to find Nadia amongst the chorus girls. She found her in the dormitories with Meg Giry, which happened to be the second place she looked. The two girls went for a walk in the opera house in order to get some privacy. Nadia immediately knew what their conversation was going to be about. Her friend was going to leave. The decision, although reasonable, was saddening. Since both of them had a tacit understanding pertaining to the reason Elle sought her out they remained silent for some time, savoring the moment.

Their walk unexpectedly led them to a place that they had journeyed to together several times before. Atop of the opera house Elle looked out over the city that she was leaving, taking time to soak in the view. She would definitely miss this spot; it was a place of reflection and memories. There was also another spot in the building that she would have to visit that day, but that could wait till later. Now she was with Nadia, awaiting the inevitable departure. It was ironic that a place that they went to together the first time they met was also going to be the last place they go together before Elle leaves. In that light it was most appropriate for their final words.

The sky was a bluish-gray and clouds blocked the sun from shining down. The girls stood next to each other, staring out at the city. Both were attempting to delay the emotional parting, but the mood was already in the air. They lingered atop the roof for some time as they both reflected on the time that they knew each other. To Elle it was as if she were reluctantly closing a chapter in her life. To Nadia this change was a loss, for herself and for the opera house. It was no secret that Elle had talent. Now after revealing her talent for singing she was going to move, therefore practically ending her career before it even started. In Nadia's opinion the directors would not be able to find someone who could take the place of Elle. She turned to face her friend and felt her voice get caught in her throat.

"I am leaving tomorrow morning," Elle spoke softly, aware that Nadia already knew she was moving with her father. Outside everything was surprising quiet and her words, although no more than a whisper, seemed to carry on the wind. "I probably will not get the chance to see you before I leave, so I wanted to talk to you now."

Nadia knew that she was leaving, but she did not think that it would be quite so soon. She was not sure what to say to her friend; goodbyes were never easy. Although she had supported Elle's decision either way, the gravity of the situation did not appear to her until this moment. Instead of dwelling on the things that she could not change, Nadia decided to look on the bright side. "I will write you every week," she said, struggling to give Elle a smile. "And tell you everything that is going on here. That way it will be like you are here, even if you are not."

"I would like that very much," Elle replied. At least she would be able to know how the directors are doing with managing the opera house even though she would be miles away. "Perhaps some time you could come and visit me and my father. You are always welcome in our home."

"The first time I get the chance I will," Nadia responded. She would have to wait until the opera house took some time off before she could take the carriage over to see her, but that was definitely something that she was planning to do. Elle said herself that they were only moving about an hour away; therefore the travel should not be that difficult. "Promise me something Elle; promise me that you will take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy."

"I promise. I will miss you Nadia."

"I will miss you too," she replied, trying not to cry. She knew, deep inside, that she would see her friend again, but at the same time she felt that it would be too long from then. The two young women hugged and then broke apart, getting one last look at each other. "Remember, this is not a goodbye. We will see each other again."

"I know we will." She was certain that she spoke the truth, although she was not sure when that would be.

As the two girls spoke they were unaware that they were not alone. Hidden in the shadows was the illustrious phantom. He had spotted them during their walk and stealthily followed them up there. His student was leaving, she had made her choice. _Maybe it is better for us both this way_, he thought to himself, but the argument was not very convincing. Erik tried to pretend like he did not care if she stayed or left, yet that was far from the truth. Secretly he wanted her to stay, but refused to even admit that to himself. Elle had been his only real connection with the world and now he was losing her.

He watched as the girls eventually left the rooftop, retreating back through the door from which they came. She was actually going to leave, which he found as a foolish thing to do. If Elle stayed then Erik could make her a star, there was no doubt in his mind that she had the ability, but she was going to move. The only person that he could blame was himself. She said herself that she would stay if he asked her to, but he refused. He could not allow himself to become vulnerable to anyone, not even Elle. But he had not meant to hurt her, which he obviously did. Erik could not help pondering what would happen to the young woman once she left. There was a small chance that he would ever see her again.

With a swish of his cloak Erik was already on his way back down, spiraling down the many staircases noiselessly headed towards his underground lair. He moved like a ghost, silently and hidden in the darkness; an expert in moving around undetected by those in the building. As usual he reached his home without any complications; no one saw him or heard him. Actually the place was quite quiet that day, without many people around. He preferred it that way. After rowing himself across the lake Erik stepped out of the boat and headed straight for his organ, preparing to continue working on his new music. Lately he had immersed himself in his music, using it as a way to let out all of his emotions while at the same time distracting him from thinking about certain things- and certain people.

Meanwhile Elle and Nadia separated downstairs, Nadia returning to the dormitories. Elle left her knowing exactly where she was heading to next, her feet guiding the way. She hadn't been to the chapel for several days, but it felt more like an eternity. When she arrived it was empty, as it commonly was, and dark. Some light came in through the stained glass window, but not much since it was an overcast day. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness of the room as she slowly made her way across the width of the space. She settled at the row of candles and, using a match, lit one candle. In her own way she was saying goodbye to the room, which had become the place she went to when she thought of her mother. Elle almost felt like leaving the opera house was like leaving her mother, but she knew that her mother was always with her, no matter where she was. She kneeled on the cold floor before the candle and prayed for the last time in that small chapel.

Monsieur D'aubigne had spoken with the directors several times in the past few days. They were more then willing to take over for him as he had asked and expressed their regret at him moving out of the city. Both directors agreed that he could come back anytime and that his office would remain untouched in case he should want to return, yet all three men seemed to know that he would not be returning. The change would not be that drastic, the directors had already been handling most of the business for quite some time. The only difference would be that they would literally be on their own and, as they now heard, Elle would be gone as well. That was quite a surprise to them, for Elle had been deeply involved with the opera undertakings. After seeing her first performance they felt that losing her was a misfortune, but they were not too worried about finding talented performers for the next opera.

The day Elle and her father left the opera house the heavens opened up in protest. Outside the weather was cold and rainy, quite opposite to the warmth and dryness that their old home consisted of. Elle was sad to leave the place that had become as much a part of her as she had of it. Despite these mixed emotions, the regret and the remorse, she was able to tear herself away from the building and out into the stormy world. At the carriage she paused, turning to take one last look, capturing a mental picture of the exquisite place. The dismal weather made everything look dark and dreary, but light filled the windows of the opera house, causing it to appear rather welcoming when compared with the rest of Paris.

"Come Elle," her father called to her from instead the carriage. "Get out of the rain; you are going to catch a cold."

Elle turned from the building and was helped into the carriage by the driver. Once she was seated comfortably next to her father he closed the door, heading back around to climb back up on his seat. Without much hesitation he pulled the reins and the horses began to move. At her seat Elle looked out through the window as drops of rain ran down it. She stared out at the opera house as it began to get smaller and smaller. For a moment she thought she saw a shadow of a person on the roof, but a moment later it was gone.

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**A/N:** School is finally over! The past couple weeks have been kind of crazy. Anyway thanks for all of the reviews and sorry about leaving it on that cliffhanger for so long. Please be kind enough to review! Thank you. 

**Captain Oblivious-** mischievous grin

**Priestess-Taisho-** Yes, I only like cliffhangers when I'm writing them. :-)

**Phantom of the Theatre-** I guess you're not too happy about her decision then…

**OperaGustus-** Bwa-ha-ha!

**mrmistoffelees-** You are not the only one.

**Anri-** It's ok, thanks for reviewing.

**Kate-** lol, thanks.

**Amanda-** I know, I'm evil. In this story Erik is the Gerard Butler phantom because I based it off of the movie version.

**Phantom's gurl-** hehe, no problem.

**Kchan88-** Thank you. I know, I wish I had a friend like Nadia.

**Triste Spectre-** Thank you, I'm glad you think so.

**Ethalas Tuath'an-** lol, thank you.

**Hymn Angelic-** Thank you, I'm glad you like it. One question, what is so scary about pretzel sticks?

**Karen-** Thanks.

**CantLiveWithinYou-** My last final was yesterday, so now I'm done. Hope you enjoyed the update.

**Mialana-** I know, no one likes cliffhangers. Anyway, thank you.


	27. Determination

**Chapter 27**

The house was larger then Elle had expected and quite charming. From the outside it appeared as welcoming shelter from the storm they had arrived during. It was located approximately an hours ride from Paris in a small town that seemed perfect for her father. Not many houses were close by and the ones that were seemed serene. She knew that her father wanted to get away from the noise of the city and live in a more peaceful environment. He was also running away from the memories that haunted his mind. The entire time that they had lived in the opera house his wife had been slowly dying. The memory of her made it difficult for him to enjoy the place after losing her. Monsieur D'aubigne yearned for seclusion, for quiet, and for reflection.

The house itself was a nice choice and he was pleased when he was finally able to see it with his own eyes. Outside the home was stone, behind the house was a lavish garden, there was servants' quarters separate from the house, and the interior of the place was decorated in rococo style. The servants were already there, to make it easier for him, and they had lived there with the previous owners, so they knew the house well. Elle saw as she entered that the house was already fully furnished, and tastefully too. Her father took no time in settling himself in his new study, which would take place of his office, while Elle wandered upstairs to choose a bedroom. There were three bedrooms, but it was not hard for her to choose one. She knew that she wanted the first one that she looked at the moment that she opened the door.

The room appeared as if it were made just for her. Across from the entrance was a balcony that opened up over the garden. To the far wall was a large four poster canopy bed with a small table by its side. On the opposite wall sat a mahogany dresser whose doors opened and on the inside were mirrors. By the dresser was a vanity, also with a mirror and a white marble counter. To the right of the door a wooden desk was pushed up against the wall. She entered the room, passed the desk, and turned a corner. The room expanded past the bed and desk, leaving the perfect amount of space for her piano. Although there was a larger and newer piano downstairs in the music room, Elle still wanted her father to send for her old one. To her it was more then a piano and she did not want to part with it.

Her bags were carried in by the carriage driver and she spent much of the day settling in to her new bedroom. She did like the house, in a way, but she knew that it was going to take a period of adjustment for her to get used to it. Elle thought back to how she was when she first moved into the opera house with her parents. Back then she had foolishly thought that change was good and exciting, now her thoughts were quite the opposite on the subject. At this point in her life she was sick of change. It seemed like her mother's death had started a sort of domino effect, a chain of events that would not have been spurred otherwise. Ever since that day nothing started to get any easier, forcing her to wonder what would happen next.

Deciding not to dwell she tried to enjoy her time there. It was easy for her to settle in, but now Elle had more free time then she knew what to do with. Every day, following their move in, she would enter the music room in an attempt to play. Her piano was not coming for some time, so she would have to get used to the one she had available. The problem was not with the piano though; the instrument was actually high quality and would have been perfect for her purpose. The real problem was coming from within Elle, not without. Whenever she entered the room she would open the curtains and approach the piano, taking a seat on the bench. Then, after opening the music sheets, she would begin to play. Lasting only several minutes, Elle would end up on the verge of tears, but would not cry. She had no tears left to shed.

Not only did she find it hard to play, especially certain pieces, but she refused to sing. Music, singing, it all reminded her of the reason she left the opera house- Erik. He was someone who Elle found herself thinking about constantly, involuntarily replaying the last time she saw him over and over again in her mind. _That is your decision to make_, he had told her. Perhaps she was nothing more than a student to him, but even so he did not have to be so cold. The part that bothered her even more was that she knew he was not always that way. She had seen him in different views throughout her time there and she never thought of him as a heartless man, but that had been the way he had spoken to her. Elle did not understand why he had acted that way. Frankly, she was tired of wondering. So she resolved to push him from her thoughts, an attempt that so far had gone unsuccessful.

Time was something that Elle no longer kept track of. She was aware of when each meal was set for, and that was about it. It was all that she needed to know. Days went by surprising fast once she stopped thinking about how to fill her time. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months as Elle found herself developing a routine. In the morning she would have breakfast with her father, take a turn in the garden, and then read quietly in her room. She would eat again with her father in the afternoon, ask him how his morning was and converse about mundane topics. Then Elle would take a trip to the music room as her father returned to his study. Not after long she would be back in her room reading and doing various things until dinner time. Although the two did not have much to talk about, Elle and her father spoke more frequently in their new home. Neither ever missed one of the meals nor was late, which pleased them both because then they would not have to eat alone.

Her life was definitely not as exciting as it had been at the opera house, but the environment was less stressful. She was kept up to date with the events at her old home through communication with Nadia. As she had promised the young woman sent her a letter every week. She wrote about the rehearsals, the new production, the new performers, and basically anything she thought that Elle would be interested in knowing. The directors decided that the new production would be Manon and held rehearsals in search for new talent. For some reason they seemed hesitant about casting Isabel as the lead again and were waiting to see if they could find someone else. Isabel did seem suited for the part of Manon despite their opinion, considering her character. Nadia had no doubt as to who would get the role of Chevalier Des Grieux though, the same man who had been playing the lead tenor since the opera house opened.

From what she read Elle wished she could be there to try and persuade the directors in the direction she thought was best. It was hard to find out what was going on without having the ability to do anything about it. Even if she were there she probably would not be able to do much anyway without bothering her father. As things were now they did not speak much about the opera house. Elle knew that a reason he wanted to leave was so that he would not have to worry about the management of the establishment. He seemed to believe that Tremaine and Bolster could handle it and he wanted to leave it at that. She could respect his stance on the situation considering how he changed after her mother's death. It was understandable that he did not want to think business, but at least he was less withdrawn- even if just by a little.

Her father told her that he thought the change would do him good, but she saw with her own eyes that as days passed in that secluded home that he was mostly the same as before. He spent the majority of his days in his study, which she soon realized was his favorite room in the house, and seldom was seen outside of it, except for meals. Sometimes she would look out her bedroom window and catch him sitting outside admiring the garden, which she noticed was becoming a habit of his. Perhaps it reminded him of their old home in the country. One thing did change though; he attended every meal without fail. The man whom had aided him in buying the house also had secured him two servants, a man and his wife. The wife did the cooking and cleaning, the husband handled the gardens and the maintenance of the home. It was an efficient system.

One morning, some time after breakfast, Elle strolled outside. She headed for the garden, as usual, and admired the rising sun illuminated the flowers below. Elle had not gotten far when she heard someone speak. This startled her for she thought that she was alone, but when she turned she saw that it was only her father. He was sitting in a chair over to the side. Since he was positioned to be in the shade she had not noticed him when she exited the house.

"It is a beautiful day," he stated. The garden was his second favorite place at the house. He smiled as his daughter turned around and found him over in the shade. After he was aware that he had her attention he continued, gesturing towards the chair beside him. "Come take a seat and join me."

"Yes it is," she replied, walking over to join him. She took a seat in the chair next to his and looked out over their land. One thing that Elle appreciated about her current living situation was the time that she was now able to spend with her father. Somehow she had a feeling that the time would not be very long.

"Elle, how are you?" he asked her, turning his head to watch her face as she reacted to his question. He was concerned about how she was dealing with the transition. If she was not happy living there with him then he wanted to know it so that he could send her back to the opera house, if that was what she desired. "How do you feel about the new house?"

Her eyes scanned over her father's face. He was not just being polite; by the expression on his face she could tell that he was genuinely serious and interested. The last thing Elle wanted to do was to worry him or make him think that she did not want to be there. The complete truth was something that she could not share at that point. So instead, she smiled reassuringly and responded in a sweet voice. "Fine papa, everything is fine."

He smiled back. "Good," he said, turning his eyes back over to the garden. He sensed that she was withholding something from him, but he pushed the unwelcome thought from his mind, telling himself that he was being apprehensive. There was something else that he wished to discuss with his daughter and he had been waiting for the right moment, although considering the topic there never would be a perfect time for the conversation. Monsieur D'aubigne realized that the present was as good a time as any. As all men are aware of as they age, he knew that he would not live forever. He could feel that his time was running out and he wanted his daughter to be prepared for when the time came. She was all that he had left so her safety and wellbeing was crucial to him. He only wished that there was someone around to take care of her for him.

"Is there something wrong, papa?" Elle asked, noticing that her father was staring into space. His eyes were not unintelligent though, she could tell that he was thinking about something. The look on his face concerned her and she wondered what was going through his mind at that very minute. She reached out to hold his hand, which was resting on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, and the cold shocked her. It seemed to travel up through her hand to the rest of her body, giving her the chills. Elle kept her hand on his nonetheless, waiting for her father to speak.

"No, my dear, nothing is wrong," he eventually mumbled, slowly snapping out of his abstraction. He was suddenly aware of her hand covering his, the warmth from her delicate hand gradually spreading up his arm. With his free hand he placed it over hers and his eyes gazed into the two pools of green before him. "But there is something that I want to tell you."

"What is it?" she asked, not sure if it was something that she really wanted to know. His eyes told her to listen, calming her with the paternal love that shined through them like two beacons of hope. She was no longer trembling.

"I won't be here forever Elle. When I am gone the opera house and this house will both be yours. What you do with them is up to you. I wish I had more to leave you, but at least I know that you will have a home." His hand slowly rose from its spot over hers and it moved towards her cheek. His fingers lightly traced the jaw line of his daughter's face.

"Don't say that father," Elle said, not wanting to think about what would happen then. If only she knew how appropriate his timing was.

The following morning Elle awoke from her slumber in a room full of the haze of morning. The white curtains covering the doors to her balcony were wide open, allowing the dull light to pour in through the glass. She emerged from her bed leisurely, stretching out her arms and stopped by her balcony to take a look out at the garden before getting ready for breakfast. Then she continued on, pulling a dress out of her wardrobe. After dressing Elle headed down the spiral stairs to the dining room, where she saw that breakfast was already on the plates. When she took her first step inside the room she immediately noticed that her father was not there. She thought to herself that she must have beaten him there, taking her seat at the table. She would wait for him to join her. Minutes went by, and she began to worry. Elle assured herself that he slept late, but decided to go check on him.

Pulling her seat out from underneath the table, she took slow steps to the bottom of the staircase and began to ascend. Elle thought that maybe she should wait longer, but her body kept climbing the stairs as if guided by some strange force. Finally she reached the hallway and walked straight. Her father's room was dead ahead, the last room at the end of the long stretch. She pictured herself opening the door, finding him asleep, and then quietly laughing at herself for her childish naïveté. The hallway seemed longer as she walked through it; it seemed that the more she walked the longer it extended. At last Elle found herself face to face with the oak door and her hand grabbed the metal doorknob, twisting it open. The door moved inward, little by little revealing the room within.

With nothing to stop her she took a step inside and her eyes glanced around the room. They landed on the bed to the right side. Keeping her eyes fixed on the same place Elle moved further in to get a better look. A couple steps from the bed, she stood with her feet planted to the floor. Instantly her hands shot up to cover her mouth in shock as her throat let out one sharp scream.

* * *

**A/N:** My power went out today so I was having trouble getting onto the internet, but here is the new chapter. Enjoy and please review. 

**Kiwi Anime-** Thank you. Of course that's not the end, there is still more to come.

**Captain Oblivious-** hehehe…

**mrmistoffelees-** Your question is already answered. Thanks for reviewing.

**OperaGustus-** Good. And no, it's not the end. More chapters to go.

**Anri-** lol, thanks.

**Kchan88-** Thank you, glad you liked it. Yeah, it is sad.

**Ethalas Tuath'an-** lol. Yes well, you'll see. Thanks for reviewing.

**Priestess-Taisho-** Thanks. Yes, and here is another cliffhanger. I know I'm evil.

**Blaze-LoganLover-** I'm glad that you like the story and thank you for reviewing.

**Oni-Gil-** Thanks for all of the reviews. That is sad about your best friend, but at least it is only for a year, right? My sister moved to Texas, half-way across the country from me, six months ago so I know how you feel.

**Amanda-** Yeah, I like him too.

**witchesfire-** Thank you, I will try.

**Kate-** I know, I know. I know what you mean.

**Phantom's gurl-** And again. Thanks.

**phantom phan-** lol, I'm really glad that you like it. When did you start it? Don't worry, that was most definitely not the end.


	28. Domino Effect

**Chapter 28**

Erik took a swift step over the hard ground, careful not to make the slightest sound. Leaves of all colors were falling from the trees around him creating a vivid world of color; a mix of yellow, orange, and red. His all black outfit contrasted sharply with the autumn world surrounding him. There was a chill in the air, but he did not feel it wrapped in his warm cloak. As he walked he felt the wind gently blow over his face and watched as it swirled the already fallen leaves around on the ground. Suddenly there was a loud sound behind him. He turned to see a flock of birds fly out of a tree in unison and flock into the air, rustling the dead leaves and chirping stridently. His eyes turned back towards his destination as he approached a gate.

The gate was already open and so he stepped through, staying close to the shadows as he looked around. There were rows of tombstones, many covered with leaves, dirt, and pollen. The place was almost empty, Erik noticed, but he was not alone. At first he was unsure as to what he was looking for, but he knew the moment he saw her. Kneeling at a gravestone was the only other person in the cemetery. She was covered in black from head to toe, with a black veil covering her hair and a black dress that seemed to billow around her. He could not see her face, her back was turned towards him, yet he was sure of whom it was. "_Christine…_" he whispered as he drew nearer.

The girl did not seem to notice his presence. Her head was turned down and her hand stretched out, her finger lightly tracing the words on the gravestone in front of her. Erik could hear her crying softly from where he stood. He wanted to make himself known, to hold her and sing to her, to stop her from weeping, but he decided to give her some time. For several minutes he stood there watching her and then silently she looked up from her spot, surveying the area around her. It was as if she finally had the suspicion that someone was near, yet she did not see anyone. Erik was carefully hidden as he watched her stand up, brush off her dress, and begin to walk away.

As she walked he followed her discreetly several steps behind. She increased her pace, feeling like she was being followed. Although she could not see that anyone else was there, it was apparent that she could sense someone was close. Erik walked steadily, but quickly, still on her trail. Then she broke out into a jog, running out of the cemetery. Her shoes pattered on the street and crushed leaves, producing a crunching sound. He did not have to run in order to keep up with her, her short jaunts were no match for his long strides, especially due to her footwear.

She was running towards a waiting carriage. The driver sat on his spot, not paying any mind to them. When she made it to the door she stopped and turned around swiftly. Erik stood a few feet away from her, but she did not appear frightened to see him. A breeze passed over them, taking the young woman's black veil with it. The fabric flew from her head and landed several feet to her left. He finally was able to get a good look at her face. When he saw it he was shocked. It was not Christine who was standing only a couple steps away from him, but someone completely different. Her blonde hair was down and blowing around in the wind, tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She stared at him with her deep green eyes, pain written all over her face.

"Goodbye Erik," she spoke in no more than a whisper, her voice raspy from crying. She appeared to be pondering something. After another moment she turned around, opening the door and getting ready to enter the carriage.

Erik looked at her and then at the ground where her veil lied. He stooped down to pick it up and held it with his gloved hand. "Elle," he said, diverse emotions stirring within him. "Wait." She turned around again to see what he wanted. He handed her back her veil and she took it gingerly, her hand barely touching his. Then she proceeded to enter the carriage and close the door behind her, telling the driver where to take her. Erik watched as the driver pulled the reins and the horses started walking. She gave him one last look through the window before turning her head forward again. The carriage moved down the street, eventually disappearing from his vision.

He shot his head up from where it was resting and looked around. The surroundings were familiar; he was safe in his home and had fallen asleep at his desk. Sweat had accumulated on his brow during his sleep. With one movement of his hand he wiped it off and brushed his hand over his slick backed hair. _It was only a dream_, Erik realized as he sat in his wooden chair, _but it felt so real. _He stood up, pushing back the chair, and stretched out his arms. Feeling a sharp pain in his back he scowled, blaming the position that he had slept in. He silently wondered how he could have fallen asleep while he was working, but also, more importantly, why he was dreaming of her.

Elle had moved out of the opera house roughly six months ago, yet she was still invading his thoughts and apparently his dreams as well. Meanwhile Erik had been working diligently on his new opera with no distractions… except for the strange dreams that kept recurring. He was not sure what they meant or why he was having them, but they were plaguing his mind. Shaking his head Erik moved over to his organ, focusing all of his energy on his work.

Meanwhile a carriage was being pulled through Paris by two black horses. Inside the carriage sat a young woman alone, her eyes staring out the window as her mind recalled the previous events that led her to that moment. One week ago Elle had been standing near her father's bed, her eyes fixated on his body while she screamed. The shrill sound reached the kitchen, where one of the servants named Marie was cleaning up. Marie immediately stopped what she was doing and ran up the stairs to investigate. When she reached the hallway she noticed right away that her master, Monsieur D'aubigne, had his door wide open. Without thinking first she ran straight down the hallway and entered the room. The sight that met her was upsetting.

Marie saw Elle standing still, but ran past her and kneeled by D'aubigne's bed. She placed two fingers on his throat to see if he had a pulse. Nothing. Then she put her ear to his chest, just to be sure. His heart was not beating. As she moved back from his corpse she crossed herself and reached her hand up to touch the simple cross that she wore around her neck. Standing up again, Marie turned around and glanced at the man's daughter. She felt a wave of sympathy, having lost her own father when she was younger. The girl, she saw, was in a state of astonishment and had not moved an inch since she arrived. She walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He is gone, I am sorry."

Elle could not believe what she was seeing. Her father lie dead on his bed while one of the servants tried to comfort her. She felt more surprised then anguished, not having been prepared for this moment. The death of her mother had been expected and gradual, but his was unexpected and sudden. As Elle stood staring at her father's dead body the servant left the room, saying that she was going to fetch the doctor. It was settled that her father had a stroke in his sleep and the funeral was set for two days from then. Only Elle and the two servants attended the funeral. He was buried next to his wife in a cemetery in Paris, as he would have wanted.

Returning to the house, Elle had to make a decision. It took her no time to start packing her bags, ready to leave the peaceful haven that was no longer a home. A house, yes, but not a home- a home was not a place, it was family, which she no longer had. She wrote the directors at the opera house to inform them of her father's death and of her upcoming visit. Currently that was where she was headed, back to where it all began. Sure, she could have stayed at the new house, but she never really felt that she belonged there. Elle missed the opera house, and now she was the new owner of it. She was not sure what she was going to do with her father's house yet, she had time to figure that out later. Now she was going to return to _L'Opera Magnifique_ and, even though she was still in shock over her father's death, she was a bit excited about what she was about to do.

The stoic expression on her face hid the true emotions she was feeling well as she watched the buildings pass by. Tired of grieving for her mother, for her father, and for herself, Elle felt that she was through with crying. Instead she wore a blank look on her face while inside she was torn apart. In one year she lost both of her parents. The reality was setting in. She had no family left- but wait, no, she was wrong. She still had Nadia, and close friends counted as family. Nadia would be there when she finally arrived, and she was one person who Elle wanted to speak with immediately. But before that she had two other people to deal with.

Finally, after what seemed like the longest ride of her life, the carriage jerked to a stop. Elle watched as the driver got down from his seat and appeared at the side of her door. The door opened outward and she gracefully accepted his hand, grateful to be back on solid ground. As she stepped forward, away from the carriage, she paused to take a look at the outstanding edifice. Standing there reminded her of when she first moved there, back when her father was eager and optimistic, back when her mother was healthier, back when she herself was happy… when everything went right and life was not so complicated. Even back then Elle looked on the opera house with a sense of admiration, from day one having appreciated the craftsmanship of the building itself. And now it was hers to do with as she liked.

The driver collected her luggage and brought it around, asking her what she would like him to do with it. Elle explained where he was to bring the bags before thanking him and taking her first steps up the front stairs in what seemed like forever. Pulling open the front door, she hesitated for a moment before proceeding into the main foyer. The place had not changed at all; it was exactly how she remembered it. That pleased her, for Elle liked the building just the way it was. Her eyes scanned over the area as she continued on and then landed on a spot directly in front of her. The two directors were standing side by side, ready to greet her. She had not anticipated that they would be waiting for her, but either way she was planning on speaking with them first. Struggling a polite, but fake smile, Elle moved towards them, ready to commence business.

Mister Tremaine spoke in a serious tone, obviously attempting to sound sincerely sympathetic. Bolster stood beside him with a hand over his bulging stomach and a friendly, welcoming expression. "We are very sorry to hear about your father. It is a regrettable set of events… yet you are always welcome here."

Elle nodded, secretly wondering why he felt the need to tell her that. Then she heard the door behind her open abruptly and seconds later slam closed. She already knew who it was without having to look- the driver bringing in her bags.

Both men looked over the driver, watching as he attempted carrying several bags at once up the stairs. Bolster turned his eyes from the man back to Elle with slight confusion showing in the wrinkle of his forehead. "You are moving back in?"

"Actually," she replied, not wanting to converse about this standing out in the foyer and also a bit annoyed by their apparent surprise. It was that moment she realized exactly why she never really liked either of the directors. "I was hoping that we could discuss this in your office."

For a second both men look stunned, but then Tremaine began lightly nodding his head. "Yes, yes of course. Follow us."

She was well aware of where their office was located, but Elle did not feel like starting anything. Staying calm and confident, Elle walked off with the directors and left the driver alone struggling with her luggage. Once they reached the room Tremaine opened the door, ushering her in first and then Bolster in after her. Shutting the door behind them, he headed straight for the seat behind his desk. He gestured for her to sit down in the empty chair before him.

"Your letter was not very specific," Tremaine continued, taking his glasses off and wiping the lenses with a piece of cloth that he had picked up from his desk. Bolster nodded in agreement, letting his partner do the talking. He set the cloth back down and then adjusted the thick spectacles on his face. "What exactly is it that you would like to discuss with us Mademoiselle?"

"Earlier you asked if I was moving back in," Elle stated, not directly answering his question. She did not like the way that he was speaking to her, as if she were still simply the owner's daughter, so she spoke back to him in a bitter yet matter-of-factly tone. "The answer is yes, gentlemen. As you know my father has… passed on. Ironically just the day before we had a conversation that dealt with the future of this opera house."

"How so?" Mister Bolster asked. She noticed that they were hanging on every word she said, waiting for the real reason that she came. Perhaps they had already expected this moment would come and that was why they had been waiting for her- they were anxious to see how Monsieur D'aubigne's death would affect them.

Elle paused for a minute, creating an aura of suspense. It felt good to have the cards in her hand for once. "He told me that after his… passing… the opera house would be mine. I now have complete ownership over this establishment."

"I see," Tremaine said, choosing his words carefully. He seemed like he was not quite sure what to say, yet he spoke like she was still a child. "And have you decided what you are going to do with this newfound ownership?"

She frowned at his question, not believing he would speak to his new boss as if she were incompetent and unable to take the position that her father left her. Elle heard her father's voice in her head. _When I am gone the opera house and this house will both be yours. What you do with them is up to you. _He obviously had faith in her that the directors did not. The words gave her a strong feeling of determination in her new task of taking over her father's rightful position and making him proud.

"I have," Elle answered with a serious expression plastered on her face, staring both men in the eyes simultaneously. "Mister Tremaine, Mister Bolster, I am taking over the management of this opera house. Your services are no longer required."

Their faces dropped.

**A/N:** I thought that was a good spot to end it. Thank you all for the reviews.

**Kiwi Anime-** Yes, but not this time. I know last chapter was kind of slow, but it was supposed to be a transition chapter which the story needed at that point. Hope you didn't think this chapter was dull as well. I suppose you are right, lol.

**phantom phan-** Oh, thank you.

**OperaGustus-** lol, yes. I updated a lot sooner this time though.

**Anri-** Thanks, although it usually just happens that way when I'm writing. If that is what you want to happen then I'm sure you like this chapter.

**Oni-Gil-** Thanks.

**Amanda-** Sure thing.

**Kchan88-** Yeah. Thanks for reviewing.

**Kate-** lol, I'm sure you did. Oh really? That must be hard. Well, at least you can relate to the character.

**Ethalas Tuath'an-** You are right on target. Thanks, I'm glad.


	29. A Reunion

**Chapter 29**

Her first task accomplished, Elle left the ex-directors stunned in their office. For the first time in months she genuinely smiled as she walked through the hallway, the realization that she owned every inch of her surroundings setting in and washing over her. Yes, they had protested, pathetically trying to convince her that she needed their help in managing the building and the people and reminding her that they were still in the process of producing the opera Manon. To their dismay, their efforts were unsuccessful. Elle listened to their plea, but was not going to change her mind. She knew that it could be hard work, taking over both the managing and directing, but she was full aware of that and was willing to commit herself entirely to the charge.

Tired from traveling, Elle decided to save the rest of her errands for the following day. There was plenty of time for her to get started on that later. With that notion she returned to her old room, glad to see her bags neatly piled by the side of the wall as she had directed the driver to do. The door was unlocked, so she opened it and began to bring in her luggage. After leaving the bags at the side of her room and closing the door, Elle sat down on the sofa. With a sigh, she realized how much she had missed her old room. She felt as if the entire opera house was a part of her and that simply being back there she was not as empty as she had felt apart from it. The place rejuvenated her, and even though she was still in mourning, Elle could feel a new sense of hope for the future.

As she sat in her bedroom preparing for bed her mind became suddenly flooded with memories. It was there that many of her lessons had taken place. Then she remembered that she hadn't sung once since she left the opera house. Elle slowly pulled herself up and off of the bed, her eyes fixed on the far wall. She approached the spot carefully, thinking back to her last encounter with Erik. Her hand reached out and ran over the flat surface. That wall, she knew, was the only path she was aware of that led to his lair. Elle felt, as if by simply touching the wall, that he was still there. His presence always secretly loomed about the building, unknown to many and under no one's command. Abruptly she stopped touching the wall and staggered back, not sure if his presence was something she wanted or something she feared.

The next morning Madame Giry was walking back to the dormitories. She had just returned from a meeting with the new owner of the opera house. Elle D'aubigne had kept the conversation brief and to the point, explaining to her that she wanted everyone gathered in the theatre in two hours. The woman was sad to hear about the fate of Monsieur D'aubigne, he had been a kind man. She was, however, glad to hear that the directors had left. Most of the people working there did not like them, especially after the day Mister Tremaine had a fit and fired the entire staff of stagehands. Seeing Elle at first had been quite a shock, she did not believe that she would ever return, and she was even more shocked when she was told the news. Giry had worked closely with D'aubigne when he was still managing the opera house, so Elle thought that she would tell her first before she spoke in front of the others.

Giry walked with purpose as she entered the room. She had always acted as the courier between the management and the workers, so her task was nothing new. At least this time the reason for the meeting was actually due to a positive change, which was bound to excite- not upset. People looked up from what they were doing as she came in; the air about her naturally attracting attention. Heading about the area, Giry started spreading the message around. With the way that the opera rats gossiped, she knew that everyone would know in due time. The same stern expression that was usually plastered over her aging face greeted the next person she came across. In a serious tone that seemed to carry without any effort she spoke. "There will be a mandatory meeting in two hours, held in the theatre. Spread the word."

The people she spoke to listened, confused and curious. Not one of them hesitated to tell other people they encountered. Speculating people made guesses and quickly discussed with each other what they thought the meeting was going to be about, wondering if anyone besides Giry knew. They were aware that she would not tell them if asked, only respond that they would find out soon enough. Maybe they would have not been so bothered if they had some hint as to what it was about, but the entire meeting seemed out of the blue. So, in turn, people spread the word like a fire spreading rapidly, consuming everything in its path. Once the two hours had passed the majority of people in the opera house were huddled in the theatre, close to the stage. None of them had expected who they were about to see.

Elle stepped onto the stage, knowing it was time for the meeting that she had called into action. When she saw the mass of people who awaited her she knew that Madame Giry had done her job. Looking out over the large group of people, she realized that there were many whom she did not recognize. The six months she was gone had not changed the building itself, but it did change the people within it. Hearing the people whisper and grumble amongst themselves, Elle realized that it was time. As she started speaking everyone's eyes turned to her, ready to hear what she had to say. She knew that they would be confused as to why she was standing there, in the middle of the platform, when they were probably expecting to see the previous directors. Elle was gladly willing to clear that up.

"Thank you all for coming. First, I would like to say for those who have not met me, that my name is Elle D'aubigne. Many of you were expecting to see Mister Tremaine or Mister Bolster up here, but it is my duty to explain to you that they will no longer be working here. Instead I will be taking over complete management of _L'Opera Magnifique_ in addition to being the new owner. The new production, Manon, will go on as planned and if you have any concerns then I ask that you address them to Madame Giry. She will be happy to assist you if she can. That is all. Rehearsal is this afternoon as scheduled."

The murmurs escalated now that she was done speaking. People began to talk freely, surprised at the sudden change. Many wondered how the change would affect them and how this woman was going to fare in her new position. Those who knew Elle were happy to see her back, including Nadia. She watched her friend from the crowd, waiting until the speech was over to try and wiggle her way through in order to get out of the theatre. When the throng finally yielded and let her pass, she began to run for the doors. Understandably, she did not want to waste any time to go and see her. Although Elle had invited her to visit, Nadia had not found the time with the constant rehearsals for the new opera. She missed her terribly, and had only been able to keep in touch through letters. Elle had not replied to her last letter, which had Nadia quite worried, but now that she was there the concerns seemed to float away. Instead those anxieties were replaced with a spurt of enthusiastic delight.

Nadia found Elle as she was heading back to her room. Elle was glad to see her, explaining that she was going to go looking for her later. The two walked together to Elle's bedroom, wanting their reunion to be in privacy. The hall that once belonged to Elle's family was overtaken by a deathly silence. Any noise was left back at the theatre and did not reach this part of the building. The silence only reminded Elle that she was the only one living in that wing, but she pushed those depressing thoughts aside and guided her friend through the doorway. They sat on the sofa next to each other with quiet smiles. For a moment neither of them let slip even a syllable. Minutes later the only sound that could be heard was their friendly chatter and for that time it was as if the world around them did not exist.

"Elle, it was a wonderful surprise to see you today on that stage!" Nadia exclaimed, breaking the silence. She could hardly contain her excitement as it threatened to bubble out and up through her throat. Along with that though was some bewilderment as to why she was there, even though the important thing was simply that she was there. She studied her friend, noticing how she appeared older, in a way that showed she had suffered greatly.

"It is great to see you too," Elle replied. "It has been too long."

"Yes, it has," the girl responded, growing somber as thoughts churned in her mind. She could no longer ignore the lingering inquiry. "But I have one question. What happened with you and your father? Why are you here now?"

She explained what happened; how her father had died in his sleep, how he had left her the opera house, how she had decided to take his place, and how the previous day she had fired the directors. Nadia listened intently, not even thinking of interrupting her as she spoke. The story behind her arrival was more unbelievable then her actual unexpected return. When she was done they stayed silent for several minutes, both reflecting on what she said. Nadia felt empathetic for Elle, knowing firsthand how hard it is to lose a father.

"Oh Elle, I'm so sorry!" she finally cried, expressing her concern.

"Me too," Elle said in a low tone. She was grateful to have a friend such as Nadia, but she did not want them to be upset during their first time together in months. "Let's not talk about such things, shall we? How about you tell me what has been happening in your life."

Nadia agreed to change the subject, attempting to return to her naturally cheerful disposition. When she tried to answer Elle's question she found that there was not much to say. The opening of Manon was coming up soon and they had been having rigorous rehearsals, but other than that the opera house had been pretty quiet.

"I thought this place was always booming with gossip," she replied, a bit disappointed to hear that nothing was going on and at the same time a bit relieved. The last thing that she needed was some sort of scandal to deal with.

"Usually," Nadia answered. That was true, but not lately. There had been nothing for the people to gossip about until Elle arrived. "But since Estelle and you left nothing has been discussed but the production, and the directors- ex-directors now- liked to keep it that way."

"That is understandable. They never enjoyed dealing with that, but in an environment like this rumors spread like wildfire." Elle believed what she said was true. During her time there Nadia had always clued her in on the latest rumors and gossip, most which was related to Estelle. Thinking of Estelle, she remembered how the prima donna had mysteriously arrived after a strange absence, refusing to speak let alone sing. They never found out why, but the opera rats had again used the Opera Ghost as their explanation for the unexplainable event.

"True. They did not seem to enjoy much though, if you ask me."

"So, were there anymore sightings of the phantom?" Elle asked her friend, masking her true concern with casual indifference. She could not restrain her interest as to how he was faring, so she allowed herself to ask. Nadia, as she expected, did not think anything of it. The phantom was a popular subject among the theatre people and therefore no one there found it odd when he was mentioned.

"Actually it is the strangest thing. No one has heard from him or claimed to have seen him since you and your father left. It is like he just disappeared. There hasn't been one letter, one odd event, anything."

That did not mean that he was not still there, Elle thought to herself as she listened to her friend's reply. It simply meant that he was not letting his presence be known. She found it highly unlikely that he would leave the opera house after so long, especially when he considers it his own. The question she was wondering though was what he was doing. He did not strike her as the kind of man to sit still and be idle for months at a time, so if he was not 'interacting' with the people of the opera house then he must be occupying his time somehow. Elle realized that she had not spoken in quite some time because she was pondering this over in her mind, and she knew that Nadia must have noticed.

"Well, who was it that landed the lead of Manon?" Elle asked, trying to appear as if she hadn't been silent for several minutes. She asked the question nonchalantly, as if she already knew the answer. "Was it Isabel?"

"Didn't you get my latest letter?" Nadia asked in response. She did not wait for an answer to continue. "Isabel is gone."

"I suppose not," she said, answering the question. She was shocked to hear that the woman was gone. Isabel had been her favor soprano there and, in her opinion, the best one they had there. "What happened? Why did she leave?"

"The directors never really liked her, you know, and they had planned on getting rid of her when Estelle was still singing. They wanted to give her a smaller role in this opera, as one of the actresses, but then Isabel was offered a lead role at another opera house. They had seen her performance in Romeo Et Juliette and wanted her to sign a contract. Needless to say she took the deal, seeing as they wanted her a lot more than those dolts did."

"Yes, I would see why," Elle stated, sad at the loss of the singer.

The friends spoke well into the day, reluctant to part. Elle told Nadia of her plans and Nadia voiced her opinions, glad to see her excited about something. Neither noticed as time passed, until it was time for the afternoon rehearsals. They went as planned, Elle playing the role of director for the first time in her life. She was not too pleased with the cast. As she had expected the directors used her absence to make their unwise selections, but she was not worried about the upcoming performance. The lead singers, although Elle would not have chosen them, knew their parts well and as far as she could see were able to pull it off.

On the night of the performance Elle returned to her office after another talk with Madame Giry. The older woman wanted to know about the payment for the Opera Ghost and Elle had to tell her that the payment would have to be made late, for she had not been prepared for it. Outside the preparations had already been made for the opening night and everyone was simply waiting for the people to start to arrive. Elle was dressed elegantly in a gown that Nadia had helped her choose for the occasion; there had not been enough time for her to have one made. She did not mind, those things did not interest her. What did interest her, though, was a letter waiting on her desk as she opened her door.

From her spot in the doorway Elle could already see the bright red of the skull seal that was used to seal the letter. She knew who it was from and she was not surprised that he had been able to get the letter into her office even though the door had been locked. Cautiously, she closed the door behind her and slowly approached the desk. This confirmed her impression that Erik was still present in the building, but did nothing to calm her nerves. Elle was still undecided on whether or not she wanted him in her life. Of course, deep down she did, but she did not want to be hurt by him again and she knew that by being around him again her emotions would stir and resurface, including the pain that she had felt. Nothing could take that away.

Sitting down in front of the desk, she watched as her hand reached out and picked up the letter mechanically. She held it in her hands for a few minutes, memories of previous letters clear in her mind, and then with one quick move broke the seal. Elle opened the folded parchment carefully, treating the paper as if it were a delicate artifact.

_Dear Mademoiselle D'aubigne,_

_Congratulations on your new venture. I had a feeling that this day would come. It was always evident that you were going to be a crucial part of this Opera House. Now the important thing is what you choose to do with that power. _

_My condolences for your father. _

_Your faithful servant,_

_-O.G. _

Her eyes read over the succinct note several times. She was not shocked to read that he knew about her and the formal style that he had written in was nothing odd, but she was left feeling hollow. Knowing that they were once on a first name basis made reading the letter sting a bit. Elle wanted nothing more then to see him again, but not at the risk of her own wellbeing. If he intended to stay cold and withdrawn, then she would do the same and continue on with her work. She refused to let his existence prevent her from doing the best she could with the given situation. Throwing the letter into an empty drawer, Elle got up off of her seat and left her office. She slammed the door behind her and did not look back.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't worry, there is still a chapter or so more to go. Thank you all for the generous amount of reviews. Now I'm at 200. Woo-hoo! I think the last chapter got the most reviews then this story has ever gotten at once. Needless to say I was pleased and decided to get this one out sooner then I was planning to. See, your reviews do make a difference. You all still aren't off the hook yet, you have to review this chapter and the next one. Pretty please? Off topic, anyone going to Live 8? 

**Ethalas Tuath'an-** Thank you. I think everything will be cleared up for you in the next chapter.

**Oni-Gil-** lol, yeah. I was trying to make Elle a bit tougher, you know? Now that she's on her own…

**Siren-** Hehehe… Love your little skit there.

**Kiwi Anime-** I understand your position on the dream, but I like writing things in detail and it gives more insight into Erik's mind. Your advice is helpful, I like to know what people did or didn't like about what I write. Thank you.

**OperaGustus-** No problem, thanks for reviewing.

**SpikeLover520-** Glad you like it and thanks for the review.

**Anri-** Oh, he will...

**priestesstaisho-** lol, glad you liked that. That was one of my favorite scenes.

**Kate-** I didn't think of that, but now that you brought it up they would work if they were reversed. I think I'll do that. Thanks for pointing that out.

**Captain Oblivious- **hehe, yes it is.

**Nika-** Thank you, I try. 

**Mialana-** Thanks, love the enthusiasm.

**Kchan88-** Thanks. She may not have the experience, but I think Elle definitely deserves the position.

**TheWyldeWestWynd-** lol, that's what happens when you don't keep up with the updates. Depends on your definition of happiness. Thank you.

**harem98-** Thanks, glad you liked it.

**Amanda-** Good; thanks for reviewing.

**CantLiveWithinYou-** Yay, I didn't even notice that until I saw your review. Celebration! lol, just kidding. Thanks for the review.


	30. Masquerade

**Chapter 30**

A layer of snow covered Paris, giving the city a dreamlike quality of frozen ice sculptures and white grounds. Snow was falling as Elle's eyes stared out the window of her bedroom. Icicles hung down over the top of her window, threatening to break off and drop to the street. She watched as a carriage pulled past the opera house, leaving its tracks through the snow behind it along with the prints from the horses' hooves. The way the snowfall left nothing untouched by the milk white crystals was beautiful, almost poetic, and as it fell the sight was enough to put anyone in a trance. The sound of a door opening was enough to pull Elle away from her daze. Her eyes left the outside as she turned to her side, her arms wrapped around her middle.

Nadia stood at the door, closing it behind her and looking at Elle. She was wearing a deep red dress with a shawl over her arms. Her long black hair was pulled up and twisted into a bun. With one hand she carried a lit candle on a golden candleholder, and she placed that down on the table before proceeding into the room. In her other hand she held a mask that was plain and undecorated, yet ruby red to match her evening dress. The opera house, due to its size, was more than a bit drafty, but as Nadia stood there her comfort was the last thing on her mind. "Elle, shouldn't you be dressed already? People will be arriving within the hour."

"Yes, yes I suppose so," Elle answered vacantly, her large green eyes blank. Nadia could tell that her mind was straying off, that although her friend's body was there her mind wasn't. Elle wandered away from the window, seemingly indifferent to the time it was.

"Come, come, let's see what you are wearing tonight," Nadia said, walking over to Elle's wardrobe and opening it. The dress Elle was going to wear was made recently, after Nadia's insistence of her getting a new dress made for the occasion. It was made of dark green silk, with off the shoulder straps that turned into long sleeves. Sitting on top of Elle's vanity was a matching mask, emerald green and ornamented with black feathers and sequins.

That evening _L'Opera Magnifique_ was holding a masquerade to celebrate the New Year. It was a tradition; the original opera house had done the same each year before it was burnt down. Elle felt distant that day, and was not quite sure why. The New Year was more about anticipating the future, not reflecting on the past. She was supposed to be celebrating her new ownership and looking forward to a successful year, but instead there was a dread deep inside her- dreading the party that was awaiting her. Madame Giry had handled the invitations without question, her experience making her the perfect candidate. Large attendance was expected for high-class members of society cherished the opportunities given to them to flaunt their expensive gowns and jewelry.

Elle had no interest in any of that, but she listened to her friend nonetheless. Nadia helped her change into the new dress, commenting on how lovely she looked. Green was an agreeable color for Elle, complimenting her eyes and her fair complexion. Her dirty blonde hair was experimented with, but eventually Nadia decided to simply pull it up and place a silver comb there to hold it in place. Although she was dressed, something was missing. Nadia stared at her for a moment, trying to think of what it was. Then an idea hit her and she asked Elle where her jewelry box was. The dark-haired girl went through it, eventually pulling out a silver necklace and placing it around her friend's neck. The transformation was now complete.

The two descended together, with an air of refinement. As she walked Elle's gown trailed behind her, her movements appearing all the more elegant. By the time they entered the foyer there was already a crowd forming, including some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the city. The opera house was the place to see and be seen, and they would not miss the chance. Men escorted their wives and daughters about the room, greeting those they knew with a smile and a nod. Women whispered to each other in small clusters, stopping when someone passed by. When Elle entered many glanced up to look at her. People had been gossiping about her since the news was printed about her single-handedly taking on the management of the building. The women could not decide whether she was simply naïve, or if her move was one of courage and daring.

Elle gave a short speech, welcoming the people there and toasting to the future of the opera house. She seemed unaware that most the women present were talking about her amongst themselves; if she had then she would not have cared. Nadia stayed by her side and when she was done speaking they wandered through the crowd together. They had no aim and no destination, only to keep out of the way of the dancing. Standing by the wall they watched the swirls of colors, moving in circular motions. People were dancing, and the women's dresses swayed as they moved, creating a sea of various colors: shades of red, green, blue, gold, plus the traditional black and white. The jewelry they were wearing reflected the light from the chandeliers, almost as if the necklaces and bracelets were made from little square mirrors, and at times as they moved there were flashes of luminosity. The men wore suits and formalwear, generally black with a white tie.

"Quite a gathering," Nadia commented, drawing Elle's attention from the crowd and back to her. "Did you expect so many people?"

"Yes," she answered, glancing from Nadia and back out over the room. She was looking for someone, but she was not sure who. Most of the people she saw did not look familiar, but then again many of them were wearing masks. Frowning, she continued. "Madame Giry arranged it, but you know how these events are. People come for the sake of being seen."

"Well, this event is not for them. It is for you. You have a new year ahead of you now, full of potential to be better then the last one was. I told you that we would see each other again, and here we are. Once I told you that things will get better, and I truly believe that they will. We just have to wait and see. There is a lot of difference that a year can make."

"Did I ever tell you how wise you are for your age?" Elle asked, smiling at her friend. Nadia always managed to say the right thing and help her calm down. She had a quality about her and, although she was younger then Elle, could be a mix of mother and sister to her at the same time. The red mask was on Nadia's face, covering part of her forehead and the top of her nose. Her brown eyes had gold specks in them that shined through two holes in the mask, the glint sparkling humorously.

"No, but you can tell me when I return," Nadia replied playfully. "I am going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"No, I am fine. Thank you anyway." She watched Nadia in her crimson gown get lost in the horde of people as she moved across the large room. Elle stood by herself, observing people as they danced and laughed, the music serving as a background for the entire evening. The music picked up and the dancers seemed to spin around in a blur. The room was hot and stuffy due to too many people placed in one space, although outside there were several inches of snow. The thought of sneaking out of the ball and into some fresh air was tempting.

Attempting to get away for at least a couple minutes, Elle tried to maneuver her way towards the nearest exit. That was not an easy task in itself; she had to cross the dance floor in order to make it to the doors. As she was moving she politely excused herself and people allowed her to pass. Elle was almost across the entire room, her eyes on the doors, when she was stopped. The woman in front of her was about her height, but a bit plump and far into her sixties. Her grayish-blonde hair was down and she held the stem of a mask with her wrinkled right hand. On the same hand were three rings, one containing a large sapphire that looked about the size of a small rock and reflected enough light to blind someone if they were staring at it and the other two a bit less gaudy. Her voice was strained, and the first time that she spoke Elle could not hear what she said over the noise.

"Excuse me?" she asked, looking over the older woman quizzically. She leaned in closer so that she could hear her better.

"Are you Mademoiselle D'aubigne?" the woman asked again, trying to speak louder. Despite the mask Elle had given a speech earlier and therefore everyone knew who she was.

"Yes," Elle answered, wondering what the woman wanted. She wanted to leave, but she struggled to remain polite as she smiled courteously. "Can I help you with something?"

"No, my dear," she replied. "I wanted to congratulate you on your endeavor."

"Thank you," Elle responded, relieved that that was all she wanted. Her eyes scanned the area before looking back again at the person in front of her. She was ready to walk off and about to, until she was spoken to again. She stopped trying to move when she heard the lady continue.

"Not many young people appreciate the opera these days," the woman droned on, not noticing Elle's lack of interest in what she had to say. She seemed to enjoy listening to herself speak. "It is nice to see a girl so young be dedicated to it. You know, I always said…"

The woman was interrupted. A man had walked up to them with a manner demanding their attention. He took long strides and walked so gracefully that people turned to watch him as he moved. Once he passed they whispered to each other, wondering who he was and why they did not recognize him. The man wore a black mask covering most of his face, except for the mouth and chin. He was dressed like all the other men present, except wore the formal clothing with much more poise, giving the impression that he was high in social status. His dark hair was slicked back neatly without a strand out of place. His eyes appeared to speak for him through the two slits in the mask. He looked down at both the women simultaneously, but his eyes were focused on Elle.

His voice was deep and melodious. It was pleasing to listen to, but he spoke low, so that only they could hear him. "Excuse me Madame. Mademoiselle, may I have this dance?"

He offered a hand out to Elle and the woman nodded for her to take it. The next thing she knew, Elle was spinning around the floor with the masked stranger, as if in some sort of trance. His voice sounded so familiar, but she was not sure if it was him. She had not expected his appearance at the masquerade; she had not heard from him since the letter. Yet although her mind doubted that the man who was now holding her hand and dancing perfectly was him, somehow she knew she was wrong.

"Erik…" she whispered, glancing down at the hand that held hers. It was strong yet graceful, just as she remembered his. Her grasp tightened slightly, as if she were afraid that if she did not hold on tight enough he would slip through her fingers like a ghost. A part of her wanted to let go completely and run, to get as far away from him as possible, but she could not bring herself to do so. She felt powerless over her body and moved loosely with his, allowing him to lead her wherever he desired. Her eyes slowly moved their way back up to his and as she stared into them she knew for sure that it was him.

"Congratulations Mademoiselle," he said, ignoring her recognition and twirling her around again. His voice did not have even a slight trace of familiarity as he addressed her. He spoke to her with civil courtesy, sounding as if he had just met her. His eyes betrayed this manner though, for they showed his awareness of the past in their grey depths. As Elle stared into his eyes she noticed that they looked like clouds gathering before a storm. She felt helpless against them. "This proves to be a successful night for the opera house."

Elle found it hard to reply. There were so many things that she wanted to say, but she knew that she could not, at least not there. Although a part of her wanted to put him behind her, into her past where he belonged, their relationship was like an unfinished symphony- it lacked closure and finality. There were things unsaid between them and things that would never be said. She knew that it would never end as long as she remained in the opera house, but she refused to ever leave there again. Most of the saddest and the happiest moments of her life took place there, like highlights of her past. Elle could not bring herself to leave the place where she most felt at home. She knew Erik would always be there, his presence lurking around every corner and behind every door, and yet that was a part of why she loved the building so much. He was one with the building and she had loved the building since she first saw it. If he hadn't been there she wondered if it would have been the same.

"Surprised to see me?" he whispered in her ear, noticing the strange look in her eyes. It held a mixture of emotions- shock, hesitation, uncertainty. In a way he enjoyed being the person who knew everything that went on in that place, and at the same time being a person whose activities no one was aware of unless he wished them to be. The power was in his hands on when he wished to be seen or when he appeared to vanish in thin air. "You didn't think that I would miss this, did you?"

It was then that Elle realized he was who she had been looking for earlier. Somehow she knew that he would come, that he had to come, but the rest was up to him. As they danced she felt that it was really only them in the room, even though they were surrounded by people. The people around them were as unaware of the couple as they were of them. Noise filled the room, but they did not hear it. Elle spoke to him quietly, in an unintentional whisper. The words came out, answering him and at the same time affirming her realization. "No, I knew that you would come," she paused a moment before continuing. "I just didn't think that I would see you."

The song ended and a new one began. Erik let go of Elle and stepped back, bowing slightly. "Well I am sure that you will do a wonderful job," he stated, politely bringing her hand up to his mouth and barely touching her knuckle to his lips. Then he dropped her hand and looked at her one last time. "But just in case I will keep in touch." His eyes added 'I'm always watching.'

Elle stood stiffly and firmly, stunned. She could not move as she watched Erik disappear into the crowd around her. Her mind could not think of what to do, as if for that minute she was frozen in time. She did not realize that she had been standing and staring at nothing when she felt a hand on her arm. The touch was light and gentle, bringing her back to reality. Elle followed the length of the hand up to the arm and eventually to the face of Nadia. She was smiling happily, her cheeks flushed with vitality. Her hand held a glass that she was offering to Elle.

"No, no thank you," Elle said, pushing the glass away. She recovered from her stupor. "I'm not thirsty."

"I saw you dancing with that man," Nadia commented, not appearing to notice the difference in her friend. She spoke joyfully, unaware of the impact that that dance had on Elle. "Who was that dashing gentleman? I didn't want to disturb you two, but now that he is gone I want to know. Is he a possible suitor?"

"No, I'm not quite sure who he was," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the room trying to find him. It was to no avail, all she saw were people- people with masks, people dancing, people laughing. Elle turned her glance back to Nadia. "Did you see which way he went?"

"Yes," Nadia answered, set back by Elle's behavior but not questioning it. She turned and pointed towards a set of doors. "He went that way."

"Thank you," Elle responded, taking off into the direction that Nadia had pointed. Nadia was left standing alone and confused. This was not like Elle, but she was sure that whatever she did there was a reason behind it. With a shrug she looked down at the drink in her hand and took a sip. Then, looking back up, she began walking with no destination in mind.

The moment Nadia had pointed towards the doors Elle saw one close abruptly. Without thinking she set out into the mass of people between her and the doors. She made it there quickly because she had sprinted; the people around her noticed but did not say anything. Instead they watched as she opened a door and vanished, silently wondering what the urgency was and then returning to their activities with dwindling interest. As Elle stepped out of the room her head darted to look at both ends of the hall, deliberating which way she should go. Her instinct told her to go right, and as she ran down the hall she found that she was right. A cloak fluttered around a corner and she knew that she was close behind. He moved fast though, so she took off her shoes in order to keep up. Her small feet made barely any noise as they moved over the carpet, her dress made a swishy sound as she ran.

Minutes later Elle looked up and around, now walking down an aisle. She found herself in the theatre. It was quiet and dark, no candles having been lit there. Elle used the rows of seating as a guide, although she knew the room very well. She inched her way slowly down to the stage and when she arrived she heard a noise. It was someone moving something, a prop perhaps, and the object was making the sound of something heavy being dragged across wood flooring. Then abruptly it stopped. Elle found the stairs and carefully stepped onto the stage. Her eyes were gradually adjusting to the dark. She moved in the direction that the sound had emanated from. Darkness surrounded her, but Elle could faintly make out an opening on the stage.

To be continued…

* * *

**A/N:** There is still more to go, but I wanted to get this up so that you all have something to read. Hopefully the rest will be up by next week. Thank you all for the reviews! There were so many and I really appreciate it. I don't have time to respond to everyone like I usually do, but I still want to thank each one of you who left one. I love you all! (Please review this too) Gracias! 


	31. Even Me

**Chapter 31**

Erik jumped through the hole in the stage, his cloak flapping behind him, expertly landing on his feet. He knew that Elle was following him. His entire life he had been forced a lifestyle that required certain skills, such as being able to moving about without getting noticed or heard and sensitive hearing. She was making no attempts to conceal the fact that she was on his trail. Erik knew the moment he left the room Elle would be coming. That was why he was moving slower, when by this time he could have already been in his lair. The opera house was his stage and he knew many quicker paths that led to his personal territory, but he was not running away. There was no need for he was deliberately allowing Elle to catch up, just close enough for her to be able to follow. As Erik lit a lantern and took off down the black tunnel he wondered if she was still behind him. Perhaps she had stayed behind, changing her mind. It was a possibility, but he knew that she didn't. A minute later he heard a light thud and then breathing. She was still there.

Elle followed the light, her bare feet lightly treading over the damp ground. Falling through the open trapdoor brought back memories of terror, of a man ready to harm her. It was a memory that had been lost, but was now playing vividly in her mind. The scenes flashed and she relived her emotions at the time. The flashback only last a second, yet it still quickened her pulse. Erik had saved her life, and at the time she never truly realized how much she had been in danger. If he hadn't come when he did, which was a miracle, then lord only knows what might have happened to her…

She was beginning to feel cold, a chill starting at the soles of her feet and swiftly moving upwards through her body. Her focus was ahead, so she did not pay much attention to her uncomfortable surroundings. As she increased her pace she asked herself what she was doing. What was she hoping to accomplish by following Erik? Elle was not exactly sure why she was and she realized that it may be a bad idea, but she kept on moving. Logic and reasoning were not guiding her now, intuition and emotion had taken over back in the ballroom. Nothing seemed to matter at that point. Her eyes stared straight ahead, her body felt weightless. If she was not in that state then she would have noticed that they were moving through an underground labyrinth.

Suddenly the light was gone. Elle did not see where he had gone and she stepped frantically, with only the wall she was tracing for guidance. Her eyes strained, hoping he had only turned a corner, but there was none she could find. She continued on for some time, following the ragged stone wall, her feet occasionally stepping on small stones that she could not see. Her free hand held the bottom of her dress, which she had been holding up in order to avoid tearing on the rocks or being tripped. For a moment she faltered; Elle's right foot had been cut by something sharp. She stopped to access the damage, barely able to see a thing. Although she did not touch the injured foot, she could feel the warm blood dripping down her toes and onto the floor. With one grimace she began walking, being a bit more cautious of the ground. She knew that there was nothing she could do about the wound now, especially being in the dark and not having any supplies. If she tried to go back then she would probably end up lost, or worse.

Then abruptly Elle stopped again. The cold ground had ended and water was lapping over the ends of her toes. It was surprising warm, a pleasant change from the tunnel she had just emerged from. Her eyes traveled from her feet upward and she smiled at the sight. She had found the lake, which she had been rowed across several times before. On the other side of the body of water laid Erik's lair. It had been almost a year since her last visit there and, oddly, she felt like she missed it. Then Elle realized that she had no way of crossing the lake, Erik had always taken her. If he was on the other side, then he must have taken the boat to get there.

Although this realization was probable, Elle looked around for something anyway. Some hair fell from where it was pinned and strands splayed across her face. She pushed the hair behind her ear mechanically. Her eyes searched for a shape in the dimness, hoping that something was left behind. Finally they landed upon an object. Moving closer and reaching out to touch, Elle found that what she saw was not an illusion. Before her was the boat that she remembered. She wondered how he had gotten across, or if he had gone somewhere else in the large building. The boat appeared to be waiting, and she decided that she might as well take it. Trying to be graceful, she placed one foot inside the boat and then the other followed. Soon she was balanced and struggling to row herself, alone, across the water.

The boat glided smoothly forward, and she could see light coming from the side that she was headed. A mist seemed to appear over the lake as she reached the middle. As if in a dream, music started up, quiet at first but then getting louder and louder until it felt that the entire opera house must be able to hear it. She knew that they couldn't. It was not a song that Elle recognized, but she immediately knew who had written it. No one else could produce such notes, so intelligently stringed together. There had never been a composer that Elle was aware of whose music came close to what her teacher had played for her. She wanted to stop right there and listen with her full attention, but she continued on rowing. Her arm was sore by the time she made it to shore, the boat stopped the minute it hit land. Music was still playing, seemingly unaware of another person's presence.

As she stepped out of the boat and onto dry land, Elle's eyes went straight to the organ. She did not need to the person playing in order to know that it was Erik sitting in front of the instrument on a wooden bench. His back was towards her, his head slightly bent down, his fingers moving precisely over the keys. His eyes were not on the music laid out in front of him, he obviously had this piece memorized and was instead watching his fingers hit each note. Her eyes left him and glanced around the room. It looked the same as she remembered, although her memory was a bit foggy. Looking back all of her visits there almost seemed more like dreams then memories, yet she knew better than to think that they were not real. There were still stacks of paper lining the side. He must have kept at his work.

The song drew to a finale and the room grew quiet. Elle was not sure about what to do or say, so she stayed over by the boat with no intention of moving. Erik still sat at the organ, his hands now resting on his lap. They were both aware of the other for what felt longer then actually was. There was a lot of past history in that room, so it was only proper that they should speak there. Erik had been waiting for her, knowing that she would find the way. At the point where he left her she could only go straight without knowing the layout of the area. He knew another way without having to cross the lake, therefore arriving at his home many minutes before her. At the moment that was not important, neither one of them was thinking about how the other arrived.

Then, without turning around, Erik broke the silence. He was neither speaking nor singing, but using more of a mix of both.

"_What do you seek in following me?_

_What is it that you hope to find?_

_Some change, something new?_

_As you can see, it is all the same,_

_Even me."_

"Things have changed, Erik," Elle responded after a second of hesitation. Not having to look into his eyes made it easier for her to speak. She spoke quietly, but a change could be heard in the tone. The year had worn on her, and she was no longer the meek girl that she used to be. Now she was stronger, made stronger through pain and suffering that no one her age should have to endure all at once. In a way she almost sounded wiser, although she was not even twenty. "As they always do."

"So that is why you have come," he replied, slowing turning to face her. "You wish to catch up on things. Well it has been quite some time."

"To be honest, I am not sure why I am here."

Erik nodded, his eyes penetrating Elle. He believed her. His head moved down gradually, not sure what to say next, and then he saw something. There was a smear of blood on the ground, leading to where Elle was standing. Her emerald gown covered her feet, but he knew that the blood must have come from her. He was not bleeding and the blood had not been there earlier. Jumping up from his seat, he asked, "Did you hurt yourself?"

She looked at him oddly, wondering why he would ask that, but then stopped when he gestured to the floor. Elle pulled up the silky fabric of her gown, revealing her white calves and feet. One foot was covered in blood. Instantly she understood, remembering that she had injured her foot on something earlier while trying to make her way through the dark. Looking at her bloody foot, she said, "I think I cut my foot on something, a rock perhaps."

"I will be right back," Erik stated curtly, disappearing into one of the adjoining rooms. He returned holding some supplies in his arm, the same as he did when he dressed the wound to her head. He gestured for her to sit down so that he could have a look at the foot. Setting down the items that he brought, Erik left again to get some water to clean the blood off with. He told her to wash her foot, appearing to not want to get too close to her. She wondered what he would have done if she were unconscious, but she did it anyway. When Elle was done he quickly dressed the wound, his fingers touching her skin for less than a second. Not before long Erik was returning his supplies back to where he had gotten them, leaving Elle alone in the main room.

Curious, Elle began looking around a bit. It was not necessarily snooping; she just wanted to see what he had been working on. There was a thick pile of papers on his desk, which she happened to be sitting in front of, and her eyes rested upon them with interest. Elle scooted the chair over in order to get closer to them and her eyes scanned the top page. It was, unsurprisingly, the beginning of an opera, which she was sure, went on throughout those many pages. He had been writing an opera this entire time. Elle desperately wanted to read it, hear it, see it come to life- already knowing that anything he spent his time creating would be worth it.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked her and Elle's head shot up, seeing that Erik stood only feet away from her. He had returned from the room to find her reading the opera. Apparently he was annoyed that she was looking at his work. Erik waited for her answer although he did not need one- he had caught her in the act.

"Nothing," she quickly replied, not believing that she did anything wrong. She knew that he was private about many things, but she was still going to take a chance with hopes that he would acquiesce. They were both silent for a moment and then Elle spoke again. "You've been working on an opera. Do you mind if I take a look at it?"

"It's not finished yet," he answered without a second thought, walking over to the other side of the desk and moving the stack. He placed it out of her reach, so that she could no longer read it comfortably from where she was sitting.

"When it is finished then?" Elle asked with determination.

"Perhaps."

Elle adjusted the bottom of her dress as she sat on the chair. Her foot did not hurt because she was not on it, so her mind quickly forgot about it as it raced with other thoughts. She realized that since she was now the director she held the decision over which operas the opera house produced and who would be in them. It was time for her to begin working on the next production, and she had yet to choose an opera. "I would like to produce some of your work, if you let me."

"I will come to you when I am ready for that," Erik said, implying that he would in the future. He returned to his bench, taking his coat off and placing it to the side. Now he was only wearing his white shirt and black pants, with black shoes. When Erik had first arrived he had shed his cloak, no longer needing it. His lair, although due to its location would seem the first place to get cold, was heated. He had made sure of that years ago, creating a heating system that would keep him comfortable while he was in his home. It only extended to the adjoining rooms, but that was all he needed it for. The answer he gave Elle was for two reasons. One, the opera was not ready yet. Two, if he was ready for the opera to be produced then he would have contacted her and ordered it- not asked. "And when you are."

Silence consumed them once more. Erik was staring intently at the pages in front of him. He was so close to finishing the opera that it bothered him immensely he could not get the last piece perfect. It had to be perfect of course; the ending was one of the most important parts. Audiences left the theatre with an everlasting impression of the performance, which relied heavily on that last scene. Certainly the rest mattered as well, but this song had to be the best- it had to surpass all of the previous ones. It was the song he had been playing when he heard the boat hit ground and Elle step out. Most of it was already written, but there was something that he felt he had to change.

He was aware that Elle was purposely not looking at him, just like he was not looking at her. Instead her eyes wandered, landing back on the desk in front of her. Erik thought about what she had said, offering to produce his opera without even knowing what it was about or what it would sound like. She appeared to have blind faith in his work. This would be the second time that any of his work was seen, the first being the famous performance of Don Juan Triumphant, which was famous because of his disappearing act. If he allowed Elle to use his opera then the situation would be completely different. There would be conditions though; Erik wanted to choose the cast himself. It was not that he doubted Elle's proficiency, but he was fastidious and desired very particular people to play the roles. There had been many times that he had to sit back and watch directors choose less than par singers, who he deemed unfit to be allowed on any stage.

The direction of his train of thought turned. Erik considered Elle for the part of the lead lady. She would be fitting for the role because he had trained her himself, taking her vocal cords and turning them into a finely tuned instrument. It had been quite some time since her lessons with him, so if Elle did perform then she would need to begin her lessons again. He looked up from the sheets and glanced over his shoulder at her. Her hands were fiddling with her dress, sliding the silken fabric between two fingers. She did not notice that he was looking. Erik wondered if she had given it up, knowing that since she returned he had not heard her sing once. His deep voice lifted up out of oblivion, filling the air with sound. He did not speak loudly, but it sounded as if he had for it had been quiet for several minutes. "Have you completely given up the opera?"

"You know I haven't," Elle answered, turning to see that he was looking at her. She was glad that he finally spoke, but she was curious as to where he was going with his questioning. "I am the director now."

"I meant singing," he clarified, a trace of annoyance in his voice.

More silence. Elle looked away from him and down at her hands. She had given up singing because of him, because it reminded her of him and that memory was too painful. With her new work and resolution she had almost forgotten about singing altogether- about how it made her feel. It was singing after all that helped her deal with her mother's death. Elle still remembered the last time she sang. It was right there, feet from where she was sitting. At the time little did she know it would be the last musical notes that would leave her throat. There were no tears to fight back, but instead memories and she battled them away. Regaining her strength, she responded, "I have not sung since my last lesson with you."

Erik clearly remembered that last lesson. He remembered the tears in her eyes, the pain that he had caused her. Although he was not one to regret things, he regretted that night- those harsh words. "I never meant to hurt you."

Elle knew that he was speaking the truth. She never had believed him to be the person that he viewed himself as. He was not cruel and heartless, but just the opposite. She wondered if there was anyone else who had seen that besides her. "I know you didn't."

Then, after she spoke those words, she realized why she had come. It was an obvious reason that she had ignored, having harnessed her feelings long ago. Bravely, and expecting nothing in return except peace of mind, Elle added, "I still love you Erik."

Those words were nothing that he had ever heard before. No one had ever told him that they loved him before, so Erik was not sure of how to react. His past experiences made him doubt the words he heard, but he could tell that she meant them by the way that she spoke. Erik was frozen, and for the first time in a while, unsure of himself.

"Goodbye Erik." The words brought Erik back to life and his head shot up to look. Elle had gotten up from her seat and was preparing to leave. It reminded him of his dream; those were the exact words that she said before she was about to enter a carriage and leave him behind. The only difference was that this time she was about to get into a boat and leave him behind, and that she was not wearing mourning clothes. It was that moment that he realized he did care for her; he just simply did not want to admit it to himself- or anyone.

"Elle, wait." She listened to him and stayed where she was. Elle waited, but it looked as if Erik was still gathering his words together. Finally he uttered, "We can continue on with your lessons, if you would like."

"You mean lessons with the Phantom of the Opera?" she replied, not answering him and not giving him a chance to answer her. Elle did not want to dealing with the Opera Ghost, as she had done before. She continued on with a bolder, mature side that he had never seen before. Erik got up from his seat and stood facing her. "I want you Erik, and not an apparition. I want the man behind the mask- the man who writes this beautiful music."

"There is no man behind this mask," his hand gestured to his covered face. "I'm a monster, remember? What am I, if not that?"

"That is not you. A true monster could not sing so wonderfully and could not compose such music. If you were truly malicious then you would not have helped me when I needed it. You saved my life once, I will never forget that. You are beautiful Erik, why can't you see that? When will you stop hiding behind that mask?"

"You will regret this," Erik uttered, not believing what he heard.

"The only thing I regret is your fate." Which indeed she was. Elle did not think it a content existence living under the opera house like a rat in a hole. She wished that she could help him in some way, like he helped her, but she had done all she could. Thinking their conversation was over she turned away, about to get into the boat. The second her foot touched the bottom she heard him speak again.

"I never wanted you to leave."

Elle looked at him and pulled her foot back. "I never wanted to leave."

"You wanted to know the truth?" Erik asked, referring to their last conversation before she had moved. They were both standing, with about ten feet between them, and were gazing into each other's eyes. For once he was letting his guard down, allowing himself to be vulnerable just as Elle did when she first admitted her feelings. "The truth is when you were gone I could not get you off my mind.

"Elle, _I love you_."

Without either of them saying another word Elle strode up to him, forgetting that she was just about to leave. He stood still, looking down, for she was only an inch away from him. She could feel his breath on her hair as her head tilted upwards to look at his face. Her hands moved from their place at her side, each slightly grazing the cheeks of his mask. Then she placed one on each side and gently began to pull it off, taking her time. Erik did nothing. This was the third time that someone had taken off his mask without permission, but he allowed her to regardless. He waited for her response to his face, remembering when she saw it and showed no trace of disgust. Elle threw the black mask to the side, her hands now touching his actual face. Her eyes looked into his and then their mouths found each other, molding them into one as they both sank into a kiss.

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**A/N:** Ok, I know that some of you now want to kill me for putting them together, so I am ready for the inevitable reviews. I know that Erik loves Christine and all, but I think that he deserves some happiness and so does Elle after both of her parents dying. It was the most charitable thing to do and besides, you should have seen it coming. There is yet another chapter left, a sort of epilogue if you will, which probably will not be as long as this but at least it will tie things up. Anyway, hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long and in my defense this is a longer chapter then the last one. Review away! 

**harem98-** Thanks, glad you are so excited. Hope this chapter didn't disappoint you.

**SpikeLover520-** lol, as if it wasn't obvious enough. Thank you.

**Oni-Gil-** That would actually be kind of funny. Sometimes I randomly break out singing in front of people. I don't think they would mind it much if I had a better singing voice. I am not good enough to sing Christine. Emmy Rossum was really good in the movie though.

**Blaze-LoganLover-** I know what you mean. I've been getting lazy lately too. Thanks.

**Captain Oblivious-** Yes, trapdoors, very handy indeed.

**LaMartienneElfique-** Thank you, I'm glad you think so.

**Ethalas Tuath'an-** You are a quick one, and I don't mean that sarcastically. Hmm… this will probably be over when you get back. At least that's something to look forward to.

**witchesfire-** Everyone hates them, that's why I love them. Hehehe… Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**priestesstaisho-** Thank you, hope you liked this one too.

**Anri-** Thanks. (smile) Still one more chapter to go.

**Jessica01-** Thank you.

**xEternalxDarknessx-** Thank you so much. I am pleased that you enjoy it and I hope that this one met your expectations as well.

**enigmatic-charismatic-** Thanks. Yes, most of the time I don't even mean to have a cliffhanger- it just happens. lol.

**Kchan88-** Thanks.

**Phantom's gurl-** Yeah, I haven't been updating as soon as I want to. Hope you liked this one though!


	32. A Perfect Fit Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Elle! Elle, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere."

Nadia's cheerful and excited voice startled Elle, who looked up from her spot on the stone floor in the chapel to see her friend running through the doorway. She was holding something in her hand and with her free hand pushed back some silky black hair out of her flushed face. Elle was kneeling before two lit candles and had just finished praying before the silence was interrupted. When Nadia entered the room Elle stood up, her long white dress sweeping down to the floor and creating a circle around her. Her blonde hair was down with the top pulled back and as she stood with the glow of the two candles behind her Nadia saw that she almost looked like an angel. Nadia knew what the candles were for, one for Elle's mother and one for her father, and she bowed her head respectfully before continuing.

"Here, I just received the newspaper. I thought you would want to be the first to read the review." Nadia handed over the folded paper that she had been carrying. She watched impatiently as Elle accepted the paper and opened it up to the appropriate section. When she read Nadia tried to read her facial expressions, hoping that the review was a positive one, but Elle showed no signs of acknowledgement.

Elle handed the paper back to Nadia when she was finished, commenting only, "Well, at least it is better then the last one." Then Nadia eagerly scanned the review, prepared for the worst.

_"L'Opera Magnifique opened their newest production yesterday with success. The full house could be due not only to the House's popularity but to the new change in management, for many of the Opera House's patrons were anxious to see how this change would effect the establishment. Mademoiselle Elle D'aubigne, the previous owner's daughter, took over her father's position and that of the two previous directors, Mister Tremaine and Bolster, soon after her father's sudden death. All restlessly awaited the production of Le Masque, which was rumored to be written and directed by a mysterious and unknown man named Monsieur Durand. The unheard of opera was met with brilliant applause. It told the story of a man torn between two worlds, struggling to hold on to the woman he loved. Elle D'aubigne herself assumed the role of Angèle, her first major role. She astounded the audience with amazing vocals, which made people wonder why she had not taken Estelle La Rous's place sooner…"_

Nadia looked up from the paper with a smile that Elle returned. "I told you, Elle. I told you that one day everyone would finally see what I see."

"Maybe you should have been a prophet instead of a dancer," Elle joyfully remarked. She did remember that conversation clearly, but did not wish to look back on the sadder times. At the moment she was too content to dwell on the past and there was too much to look forward to in the future. The day after the masquerade Erik finished the opera he had been working on, claiming that Elle had been his inspiration. He entitled the work _Le Masque_, after the mask that he no longer donned, and agreed to let Elle produce it. On his insistence they started lessons, preparing her for the role he said she was made for. Although she had gone quite a while without singing, it did not take long for the skills to return to her, talent was something that one did not simply lose with time.

With Elle in a lead role she needed some help directing, therefore Erik assumed the name Monsieur Durand. She had explained that the director had been caught in a fire several years before, which accounted for his face. He mostly kept out of the light, but those who did see him stared in surprise, not daring to say a word. Only the performers saw him, and they never made the connection between the mysterious new director and the missing Phantom. Many believed that the Opera Ghost had finally fled the building and, since nothing new occurred, the topic faded into history.

"I can always be both," she responded, folding the newspaper under her right arm and taking Elle's right arm in her left. Together they left the chapel behind, the two candles still burning in their absence.

The two young women were headed for the foyer to join the others in a toast to the previous night's success. Nadia chatted to Elle as they went along, her natural exuberance intensified by the sensational performance. As they rounded a corner she made a comment that grabbed Elle's attention. "And I do say that director Monsieur Durand reminds me of somebody I have seen before, I just cannot seem to place my finger on it."

Elle smiled, her left hand patting Nadia's arm. "I doubt it; he is not a native of Paris."

Nadia was silent for a moment, but then she burst out. "Wait, I have finally figured it out! He reminds me of that strange man from the masquerade. The one that I saw you dancing with."

"I can assure you, they are two very different men." Elle meant more with this statement then Nadia could ever understand, but the woman accepted her friend's assurance and eventually changed the subject of their conversation.

Later that day, when the opera house calmed down, Elle found herself walking alone down a dark passageway holding a lantern up to light the path before her. It created a circular glow that ended on the tip of Elle's face and glossed over the front of her dress. She took long strides, going over a path that she had carefully memorized after many visits. Her white dress flowed behind her and glided over the dirty stone ground.

When she reached the lake Erik was waiting for her, standing in the boat and offering out a hand. She did not hesitate in handing him the lantern with one hand and accepting his with the other. He helped Elle into the boat and then let go, using his hand to row the boat across the lake. They did not speak; more was said through their silence than could ever be explicated in words. Everything that had to be said already was and therefore the silence was a comfortable one in which there was no need or necessity to talk. Elle watched Erik as his strong arm propelled the boat forward. He was wearing a white blouse with a vest and black pants. Her eyes moved upward, up his arm, over his chest, and landed on his face. Erik was not wearing his mask. His face was illuminated by the lantern; she could see the sweat glistening on his brow. The smooth side of his left cheek contrasted sharply with the scarring over his right, but Elle did not even notice. She saw a face that was beautiful and perfect, just the way it was.

Erik's eyes were set ahead, but occasionally he glanced down at the woman beside him. He could hardly believe that he had come so far, after so many years of solitude. It was as if he was waiting to wake up one day and realize that he was all alone again, that Elle had abandoned him like so many others had throughout his life. He had a fear that she would be taken away from him, but every day came and went without change. Elle visited him frequently and he did the same with her, emerging from his lair more and more often.

The boat reached the other side of the shore and Erik offered his hand to Elle again, letting go only when he saw that she was standing firmly on the ground. He followed her, setting the lantern down by the boat. Dozens of candles were lit all over the main room, providing ample lighting for them. Erik, as usual, headed straight to his organ and sat down. Music was already opened up. Elle joined him by the instrument and waited.

"You did very well last night," Erik spoke deeply. "It was an excellent performance… but you still have more to learn."

"I know," Elle answered truthfully. "And I know that you can teach it to me."

"We have plenty of time for that, but now it is time for rejoicing. How about we sing the last scene of Act 2?"

Elle agreed and Erik began to play. When it was her turn she sang the song that she had rehearsed many times before.

"_Tell me that you love me,_

_Tell me that I'm yours,_

_Tell me that I won't have to suffer anymore._

_Take my hand in yours,_

_Lead me from this nightmare,_

_Into your arms of safety._

_Don't let me stray from your side,_

_Because I cannot see without you,_

_You are my eyes."_

When the song ended Elle was tired, but happy. There was nothing that she loved more than singing a duet with Erik, the way their voices responded to each other and entwined to create a bouquet of song. It was hard to believe that previously they were separated for over half a year. Spring had arrived and Elle felt as if the past were finally behind her. Nadia, although apparently unaware of her talents, had a knack for saying predictions that not only were designed to comfort Elle, but most of the time turned out to come true. Elle smiled as she thought back to her words. _'You have a new year ahead of you now, full of potential to be better then the last one was... There is a lot of difference that a year can make.'_

And the difference was already beginning to show. Elle did not know the last time that she felt this optimistic and alive, aside from her first onstage experience. The previous night had revived her, so to speak, and reminded her how much she had missed the stage. Nothing could be compared to the feeling that a singer got when they finished an aria and an eager applause erupted from the audience. It was as if there was nothing else in the world, and Elle desired nothing more. The opera house was more then a home, it was a part of her. Elle never knew how Erik had come to stay at the house, but she could understand why he never left.

Erik had left the comfort of his organ and disappeared into an adjoining room. Elle watched him leave but did not ask where he was going; she merely acted as though she already knew. She wandered over to his organ, passing the wooden bench and tracing her thin fingers over the keys. There was a longing within her to play the instrument that had been used to write music unsurpassable by many, but Elle did not dare. Even though she was ignorant of the fact that Erik had crafted the instrument himself, she knew that it was personal- like the clothes on his back. She knew better then to cross the line with him, for she would have liked the same respect. Elle doubled back and took a seat at Erik's desk. It was clear except for a stack of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of red ink. The wood of the table was worn and, as her hand barely touched the surface, Elle wondered how many letters and librettos Erik had written at that very spot. She could only guess.

She glanced up, pulling her hand back to her lap, to see that Erik had returned. His right arm was pulled behind his back, as though he were carrying something with his right hand. He stepped down and stopped a couple feet before where Elle was sitting, his face in an unreadable expression. Their eyes locked, and neither of them blinked as misty grey mingled with lush green. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the expressions that they exchanged were priceless. They were both submitting to one emotion, one love, and one desire. The music brought them together and now, in the realm of music, they were at peace.

"I have something for you," Erik said, his hand tightening on the object behind him. He did not want to admit it, but a part of him was nervous about what her response would be. He had gotten used to Elle being around him while he wore no mask to cover his deformity, yet now he felt another level of vulnerability.

"A surprise?" Elle asked, a smile forming on her small pink lips.

"Yes, a surprise." Erik managed a half grin and brought around his right arm that had been behind him. His hand offered out the gift for her to take and Elle gingerly leaned forward to accept. It was a rose, a white rose, with a black satin ribbon tied about the stem, the exact same kind that Erik had given Elle on the night of her very first performance. She twirled it blissfully, remembering that night, and then something caught her eye.

The rose looked like the previous one had, except for one little change. This rose not only had a black ribbon tied around it, but there was something attached to the ribbon as well. Elle brought it closer, inhaling the saccharine fragrance, and saw there was a ring tied into the bow. The ring held a large, but not flamboyantly large, emerald in the middle with two small diamonds on either side. The stones were fixed onto a small ring of solid gold. As Elle realized what it was her eyes widened and shot up to Erik's, asking if this meant what she thought it did. Apparently Erik understood her.

"Elle, will you be my wife?" his musical voice asked, reaching out his hand to her.

"You don't have to ask. I was always yours."

Elle's free hand slipped into the hand that Erik offered her and he gently pulled her up off of the chair. With his other hand he lightly pulled the black satin ribbon bow and it came undone, the ring falling delicately into his palm. Elle's face glowed with a radiance that had been thought to have been extinguished months ago as she watched him slip the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. She held the white rose up to her nose for a second before tossing it aside onto his desk and then turning back to him. Erik's long arms wrapped around Elle's body and she leaned into him, her face at the top of his chest. His head bended down to her and as his right hand grazed her cheek he pulled her into a kiss. Their bodies melted into one, a perfect fit just like the ring on Elle's finger.

Minutes later they were still standing, holding an embrace that neither wanted to end. Erik's hand was carelessly caressing Elle's blonde hair, his fingers intertwining with the strands. Elle's head was resting sideways on Erik's chest and she could hear his heart beating with each breath. "Erik," Elle spoke quietly. "Does this mean that you will be leaving this place, this life, behind- for good?"

Erik thought for a moment and then replied heavily. "Yes, I believe it does."

"Will you miss it, being the Phantom of the Opera?"

His eyes landed on the mask that he had discarded several weeks ago. They lingered for a moment and then turned to the woman he was holding in his arms. The decision was easy. "No, I'd much rather be with you."

**THE END**

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**A/N:** The end at last. Sorry it took so long. I know it's a bit fluffy, but what do you expect from me? Anyway, thanks for the great reviews and I hope that you all enjoyed the ending. No time to respond to reviews, but thank you to every one who left one. It's sad that this story is over, but I am glad that you (those who reviewed) enjoyed it. Leave one more and tell me what you think. Thank you all for reading! 


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